


Dark Obsession

by eibbil_one, QuidditchMom (eibbil_one)



Series: Remember Me Trilogy [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Pre-Order of the Phoenix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 102,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eibbil_one/pseuds/eibbil_one, https://archiveofourown.org/users/eibbil_one/pseuds/QuidditchMom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuing on in the RM/JoT Universe, everyone is now settled into their lives, secure in the feeling that nothing *else* can go wrong.  Of course, something is about to.  Chapter 1 sets the course, welcomes you back and lulls you into a false sense of security about the lives and loves of my favorite six.  There are still some unanswered questions and there is something foul bubbling within one of the characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was cold. Even for June. Even though the sun was shining. Even though he seemed to be the only one that noticed.

It was cold.

Had it really just been three days ago that the owl had dropped the newspaper article into his lap? It seemed much longer. He supposed that stemmed from the amount of arguing he'd done with his wife over those three days. She had been more concerned with his gaining closure with the Dursleys, while he had wanted to focus on who had sent the clipping. She had waved that off as unimportant, that anyone who knew him could have sent it.

"Hermione," he'd argued, "a friend would have sent a note or something. Even Dean, the world's worst correspondent, would have at least scribbled a note at the bottom."

"Maybe it came off during transit," she'd shot back stubbornly, "and don't think you're going to sidetrack me, Harry. We're going to that funeral. You need it, even if you won't admit it. You need to say goodbye."

Harry gave another shiver as he watched the last casket being lowered into the ground. He shouldn't have come. There was no reason for him to be here. Harry didn't give a damn about closure. He didn't give a damn about the Dursleys. He shouldn't be here. He felt it was a mark of how much he loved Hermione that he'd do this for her...and planned on reminding her often.

They stood quite apart from the other mourners, Hermione dressed in a simple, black Muggle skirt and blouse, Harry in a black suit and Jamie swaddled in the pink blanket Molly had knitted for her. Neither of them had been able to bring themselves to surround their child with the color of death.

If it had been any other occasion, he would have laughed at the odd looks being thrown his way. He almost did laugh when he'd heard someone mutter "St. Brutus' Centre." Several times he'd had to restrain himself from slyly transfiguring a nearby headstone into a drum set. Just because he could. Just because it would have driven Uncle Vernon into a rage.

A thousand horrid images began racing through his mind as they watched the grave tenders shoveling earth into the ground over the caskets; every single one making him colder -the soul deep, Dementor type of cold he remembered from third year.

Memories were as thick as the grass beneath his feet. Aunt Petunia, dying clothes grey. Uncle Vernon burning his letters. Dudley beating him up. Aunt Marge and her bloody bulldogs. She was here, he'd noted, standing stony faced and stiff. She'd glanced in his direction once, but hadn't spoken to him. Knowing her, she probably blamed their deaths on him, not caring that he hadn't seen or spoken to them in years. Aunt Marge was Aunt Marge and if something went wrong, they're _had_ to be a way to blame it on him.

And if it hadn't been for Hermione's insistence that he needed to be here, he'd have ignored the whole affair. Once he'd reluctantly agreed to attend the funeral, she inferred that it might be a good idea for him to visit the house. She had wanted him to go to Privet Drive, but on that he'd put his foot down. There was nothing there to see but a pile of ash. His cupboard was gone. He supposed a psychiatrist would have fun trying to decipher why the loss of that cupboard seemed to bother him somewhat more than the deaths of four people.

Nevertheless, here he stood...paying his last respects to people who hadn't given a damn about him.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, reaching a free hand up to touch his shoulder.

"Hmmm?"

"We can probably go now," she said softly.

"What?" Harry glanced around, shocked to find that they were the only ones remaining in the graveyard. He'd been so consumed by his thoughts, he hadn't realized.

"One minute," Harry said.

He made his way slowly towards the four freshly filled graves. He stood over them, glancing at each in turn. "Goodbye," he said softly and then turned his back on them forever.

Harry stopped abruptly and drank in the sight of his wife and child. The last funeral he'd attended before today had been Hermione's. There hadn't been a body to bury, so a simple headstone had been fashioned and placed in the Hogsmeade cemetery. He'd stared at that bit of granite for ages, not moving except for the shuddering. The image of that stone -- _Hermione Granger, loving daughter and loyal friend --_ had remained fixed in his mind so strongly that it took gallons of whiskey to remove it. In hindsight, he realized even that hadn't worked. The only thing that had removed the image was finding her alive.

Just then, Hermione smiled at him and he heard the unmistakable sound of Jamie's plea for attention. Warmth spread through him. Hermione Potter, Jamie Potter. His. Thank God, his.

"Let's go," Harry said, feeling lighter than he had in days. Maybe Hermione was on to something with this closure business - not that he had any intention of telling her so.

Jamie squealed when she saw her father, and Harry plucked her from Hermione's arms.

"Missing your dad, are you, love?" He lifted her high over his head then brought her slowly down to blow bubbles on her exposed belly. Jamie laughed and kicked her feet, begging unnecessarily for him to do it again.

Hermione followed behind father and daughter, smiling. The sounds of raspberries and baby giggles drowned out the eerie silence of the graveyard. She wanted to tell him that when he'd turned from the graves, he'd smiled for the first time since hearing the news. She wanted to point out that saying goodbye was an important step in accepting any death.

But she had decided not to ever say _I told you so_ to Harry. No matter how much she wanted to.

*^*^*^*^

It didn't take them long after the funeral to join the others. It would have taken much less, but Hermione steadfastly refused to allow Harry to fly them on his broom. After a bone jarring trip on the Knight Bus and a harried portkey journey throughout which Jamie howled like a banshee, they arrived at the villa Ginny had rented.

Charming didn't begin to describe the house they'd be occupying for the next two weeks. There were four floors, Ginny had explained; the three top floors held a flat for each of them. The first floor was more of a common area. Tropical plants were scattered here and there making it look more like a section of someone's garden than an actual room.

Now that their feet were on solid ground, Jamie seemed a bit less cranky. But by the tone of the whimpers, Hermione knew that was only a passing respite.

"Someone needs a nap," Hermione told Harry as they walked into the villa.

"Greedy, aren't you?" Harry responded with a lascivious grin.

"You're incorrigible, Harry. I was talking about your daughter." She paused, considering. "But now that you mention it..." She trailed off as Mariah approached.

"You made it! Isn't this place fabulous? We just got in yesterday. Of course, Ron's in a mood over the sun waking him at dawn this morning. Honestly, he'd find a way to bitch if it started raining galleons."

"Nice to know some things don't change," Harry grinned, pecking her on the cheek in greeting.

"We drew straws when we first got here to assign the floors. You guys are on the fourth floor. Best view, but hot as hell in the afternoon. Sorry about that. We've discovered that each floor has its particular quirk, so you're not alone."

"What's yours?" Hermione asked. She loved watching Mariah when she was in full speed. For a while, she'd thought those days had passed forever. First she'd disappeared, and then when she'd come back she'd had to face so many dangers, culminating in the abduction of Rianne by her estranged brother, that she'd seemed a shell of her former self. But now, Mariah was back to normal - still a little secretive, but happy and boisterous all the same.

"A poltergeist. And she's a real pistol. Likes throwing things at us, which has made Ron dub her Mrs. Peeves. From what he's told me, the name fits. Luckily, she seems to have a soft spot for Rianne. We take turns using her as a human shield."

Ron appeared behind Mariah as if he'd Apparated there. And based on Mariah's look of surprise, he probably had.

"It annoys the hell out of me when you do that," she scolded.

"I know," he kissed the tip of her nose, "which is precisely why I do it."

"Where's Rianne? You were supposed to..."

"Relax, Mum. Ginny's in the pool with her. I just thought I'd take my niece to join them. Give Harry and Hermione a chance to settle in."

Before they could raise even a token protest, Jamie was being whisked away and they were left standing in the large living area all alone.

"You smell a set up?" Harry asked.

"Definitely."

"Wanna make the most of it?" His eyebrows rose up and down comically

"Definitely," she laughed, and together they Apparated upstairs and settled in. Twice.

Later that night, when the babies were all sleeping upstairs, the six of them settled in on the veranda for drinks and dinner. The table in front of them, once laden with mouthwatering island dishes, now looked like a flock of vultures had ravaged it.

"This is definitely one time I'm grateful I'm a witch," Hermione sighed, touching her wand to a platter and cleaning it instantly. She was just about to do the same to a platter of paella when Ron batted it away.

"Honestly, Ron, do you ever stop eating?" Draco drawled from beneath closed lids.

"No," replied everyone except Ron himself. His mouth was too full of rice.

"How did you find this place, Ginny?" Mariah asked, watching with mild amusement as her fiancé did everything but lick the paella platter clean.

"She didn't," Draco said, surprising everyone. "I did. This is where I came when I left England years ago. The villa is invisible to Muggles, but the island itself is a popular spot with them."

An uneasy shiver ran across the table like a tropical breeze. No one said anything and everyone avoided looking at Hermione and Harry. The near collapse of the Potters' marriage over the events on this island was still fresh in their minds.

"Do you remember any of it yet, love?" Harry asked, nearly laughing at the collective sigh from those seated around him. He shook his head and grinned.

"Bits and pieces," she grinned back. She'd told Harry as much earlier as they'd lounged in bed. "I do remember the waterfall, though. Do you think you can find it again, Draco?"

"Probably. It's a pretty popular tourist spot if memory serves." He looked a little uneasy, Harry noted. Based on what Hermione had remembered about that waterfall, he didn't blame Draco in the slightest. He just wished he had the heart to mention it. "We can go hunting for it tomorrow. Might want to get an early start though as we'll have to drive."

"You mean, I'll have to drive," Mariah corrected. "I don't trust any of you behind the wheel of a car."

There were murmurs of agreement from Ginny and Hermione, male posturing by Ron, Harry and Draco, but in the end, they all agreed that Mariah would play chauffer while Draco navigated.

Ron and Mariah headed for the housekeeper's quarters to secure childcare for the next day, while Ginny hurried off towards their flat -- Morgan had set off the nursery charm which was now shooting red sparks out of their window.

"Hermione," Draco called as she and Harry were making their way to their staircase. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure," she smiled, walking back towards him. Draco was a bit relieved that Harry continued on up the stairs alone. "What is it?"

"The waterfall," he began without preamble. "You remember that?"

"A little of it."

"Do you remember what happened when we reached the top?"

Hermione grinned and decided to extract a little revenge. "Yes. You're a fabulous kisser, Draco. Too bad I remembered _that_ too late."

Draco felt his cheeks heat up and resisted the urge to clamp his hands over them.

"Hermione," he drew her name out in exasperation.

"You can relax," she smiled, deciding to let him off the hook. "I told Harry everything I remembered the moment it came to me, including the kiss. He's okay with this, Draco. I promise. He wasn't exactly a monk while I was missing, you know."

"But..."

"Look. Are you carrying a torch for me, Draco? Wish I'd leave Harry and run off with you?"

"No, but..."

"Do you think I'm apt to leave Harry and begin stalking you for more of those fabulous kisses?"

"No," he said, beginning to feel like an idiot.

"Then relax. We have a past, you and me. Ginny knows, Harry knows. Both have accepted it. For pity's sake, Ginny spent the better part of her formative years fixated on Harry. Neither of us has lost a moment's rest over that, have we?" Hermione felt her eyes get misty and tried not to get all blubbery and stupid as she continued. "I love that you care enough to ask me about this, Draco. I think it shows more than anything else how much you've changed. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just go upstairs and shag Harry until he can't speak."

"Sounds like a plan," Draco agreed, clearing a lump from his own throat.

"You want to shag Harry, too?"

The shocked look that crossed his features made Hermione double over with laughter. After a moment, Draco joined in. "Always have. So you'd better get up there before I decide to see if he's interested in joining the home team."

Hermione was still chuckling as she entered their flat a few moments later. "Harry?" she called softly, not wanting to wake Jamie. She walked into the smaller bedroom and paused at the baby's crib, marveling for a moment over their sleeping daughter. Her Cupid's bow mouth was working silently as she slept; dark lashes lay against pale skin. Her father's raven hair lay flat against her head. _If it stays like Harry's,_ she thought, _it won't lay flat for long._

She heard water running in the bathroom to her left and felt a slight breeze ruffle her hair. Harry had opened their terrace doors. Deciding to wait for him there, she left Jamie sleeping and crossed to stand on the small patio. It was a clear, warm night, the faint breeze she'd felt a moment ago a bit stronger out here, and just cool enough to make her shiver slightly.

Before she could raise her hands to chase away the goose bumps, she felt Harry's arms encircle her from behind. Without a word, he began kissing the sides of her neck, nuzzling her bushy hair out of his way. She felt an increase in her pulse as his lips continued up towards her jaw line and his hands began untying the strings at her shoulders. He got the last one untied and Hermione had a second to catch it before it slid to the floor.

"Harry," she nearly shrieked.

"What?" he looked puzzled. "You've got your swimsuit on under there."

Hermione grinned and blushed at the same time, pushing slightly to move him back into their quarters. He acquiesced, still looking confused. Back inside their room, she closed the doors with the dress still clutched to her person. Once she was assured of their privacy, she let the garment go, revealing nothing beneath it.

"Hermione," he breathed, half surprise, half delight. "Just full of surprises, aren't we?"

She met his eyes then, not surprised to see her own desire reflected back at her in his gaze. Her body reacted as if he was touching her with his hands and not just his eyes. "You are beautiful, Hermione Potter."

"Easy words," she said mischievously, "care to back them up?"

Harry did. She was back in his arms next second, his mouth pressed to hers. His tongue did delicious things inside her mouth and his hands explored every inch of her. As his hands worked their familiar magic on her body, Hermione set to getting him similarly clothed...or unclothed. Pure feminine power coursed through her when she heard him groan at her teasing hands. His breath was coming in broken gasps as she touched and stroked and caressed. He seemed to have lost the power of speech as well, as the only thing he seemed capable of was moaning. Perhaps she really was going to shag him until he couldn't speak.

Hermione suddenly broke the mood when a small giggle escaped.

"Didn't mean to tickle you," he said, his voice gravelly with desire.

"You didn't," she admitted. "I just remembered something I told Draco earlier."

"Hmmm," Harry pondered once she'd told him. "Draco, eh? Now there's something I'd never thought of..."

It was fun, she decided later as she lay panting crossways across the mattress, pretending to convince Harry that he was perfectly happy in his sexual orientation.

The remainder of their trip passed in a haze of touring, shopping and laughing. Hermione knew it was the perfect thing for Harry. How better for him to spend the weeks following the death of one family but basking in the love and camaraderie of another?

Unfortunately, time passed in its usual fashion...much too fast for those still enjoying themselves. With a few tears, mostly from Ginny who would be living apart from them, the six witches and wizards headed back to their lives. Harry and Hermione to Hogwarts and preparations for the coming term. Ron and Mariah to the shop they would run together. Ginny and Draco to Malfoy Manor. And if anyone thought that Draco was a bit callous about his wife's tears, they kept it to themselves.

They had a standing date to meet in Hogsmeade once a month for brunch, but somehow, it just didn't seem enough. Difficult as the past year had been, it had drawn them all together so many times, and it felt odd to be separated again.

*^*^*^*^

"Ginny?"

Draco paused at the fireplace, brushing ash and soot from his robes before his rather fastidious wife removed his head from his shoulders. The manor was silent around him, but that didn't mean anything. Ginny could be holding a masked ball in their bedroom and he'd never hear it all the way down here.

He thought of calling for her again, but realized that Morgan might still be napping. If he woke the baby, life would not be worth living. He settled instead for the searching room by room.

The hardest part, he realized, was finding her. When he did, she stood with her back to him, staring out over the massive grounds that had sheltered him as a child. His heart plummeted when he heard the sniff.

He turned her around and enclosed her in his arms within seconds of that sniff. "What is it, Red?"

She pulled back and he could see she'd been crying for some time. She opened her mouth to respond, but he stopped the denial before she could utter it.

"Don't you dare say it's nothing, Ginny Malfoy."

She sniffed again, seemed to have a short internal battle with herself, and then took in a deep breath. "But it really _is_ nothing, Draco. I just...I miss Ron and Mariah, and Harry and Hermione. We had so much fun on holiday, and it was so great to be with them all the time. I've just been feeling a bit sorry for myself." Ginny wiped both hands across her cheeks and kissed him briefly before stepping out of his arms entirely. "And I know you think I'm just being silly. I could see it on your face as we were leaving the island. I guess it's just taking me some time to get used to the iso--, I mean being back home again."

Draco picked up the word she hadn't said. And he knew she felt isolated out here. The village was fine, but didn't offer much in the way of peer companionship for her. As an only child, it had never bothered him much. Luckily, he'd anticipated it. With a supreme effort, he kept the grin from his face and his voice even. He had no intention of giving away the surprise a moment before he was ready. She read him so well, knew him so well, it had become a bit of a game to see if he could surprise her.

"Then why don't we move to Hogsmeade so we can be closer?"

"Excuse me?" Ginny said once her jaw worked again. _Score one for me,_ Draco thought as he battled his face muscles into laxness.

"I mean it, Ginny. I think we should move."

"Well," Ginny began. She didn't dare hope he was serious. "I guess we can start looking for a house if you're ..."

Draco reached into the front pocket of his robes for the brochure from the agent almost casually. He unfolded it and showed her the moving pictures of each room. "How about this one?"

Ginny stared at the pictures; the warm kitchen with its middle butcher's block, the Master suite that looked exactly like the sketches she'd once made of a dream bedroom, the nursery furnished exactly like Morgan's.

"When did you do this, Draco?" Ginny raised an eyebrow towards her husband.

"The day we returned from the island. You thought you were hiding it from me, but you weren't. I don't think I've ever seen you that sad, Red. I couldn't stand by and let you be miserable. This seemed an ideal solution."

Luckily, Draco had a nanosecond to prepare, otherwise his diminutive wife would have knocked him over. Her arms were around his neck, her legs around his waist, and her lips were searing his. "I ought to buy you real estate more often."

"When can I see it?" she asked. "When can we move?"

"As soon as you want, Gin. As soon as you want."

In the end, it took her only two days to get everything in order. She put Draco in charge of their bedroom while she packed up the nursery. She wondered if Draco noticed how little they had to pack up. Clothes, the baby's things and a few personal items. Deep down, she wondered if she'd been kept from making the Manor a home on purpose.

With Morgan taking his final nap in the Manor, Ginny went in search of Draco. Much as she wanted to leave this place in favor of a home like she'd grown up in, there were a few lingering doubts. The part of her that wasn't thrilled was feeling guilty and selfish. It might be cold and drafty and completely isolated, but it was the home Draco had grown up in.

Determined to find out his true feelings on the matter, she headed towards their bedroom. She found him on the floor outside of their closet, staring at a scrap of parchment, his shoulders shaking slightly. Her heart sank.

"Draco, we don't have to do this. I know this is your home. I was acting like a child when I said I wanted to move ..."

He turned then, and she realized that he wasn't suppressing tears, but laughter. "What's so funny?"

"Red, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to find it. I was pulling down the boxes in the closet and this one fell over. The parchment landed face up. I couldn't help but read it."

Intrigued, Ginny took the sheet from him and immediately her face inflamed to match her hair. It was a rough draft of the poem she'd sent to Harry one Valentine's Day ages ago. The one he still didn't know had been from her.

"Draco?" She smiled sweetly, forcing the blush from her cheeks.

His eyes were tearing up in his efforts to keep the laughter at bay. "Yes?" he choked out.

"If you ever, ever, ever," with each word, her voice grew sharper, "tell Harry about this..."

Draco said nothing, but his smile was fading fast. "Yes?"

"It will be the last time you ever see me naked, you got that?"

"Then I'd better get it while I can," Draco grinned and swept her into his arms. A minute later, she lay prone beneath him. He paused with his lips inches from hers. "So what are my eyes like, then?"

She shut him up in the most effective way she knew. Draco didn't mind in the slightest.

"Draco," she began later, still determined to know for sure, "about the move?"

"Red," he sighed, pulling her tighter into him and wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. "I have no happy memories of this relic other than the times we've been here together. I had no siblings, no real family. I want more for Morgan than that. While I fully intend for us to provide him with siblings, I also want him to know his cousins as well. I will bid this place goodbye with a smile on my face this afternoon. That cover all your issues?"

"Yes," she grinned. "Except for the bit about the siblings..."

They spent Morgan's last naptime in Malfoy Manor making one last happy memory. Based on how...inventive...his wife had become that afternoon, Draco was sure that one would stick with him for quite some time.

^*^*^*^*^*^

The first staff meeting, Harry had discovered, was always the most enjoyable. Once the students arrived, they focused on the business of running the school. In their beginning of term meeting, however, it was more a how-I-spent-my-summer-holidays free for all. He particularly liked Terese Sinistra's yearly request to the heads of houses to keep their students from using her Astronomy Tower as Lover's Lane.

"That hasn't changed in over a hundred years, Terese. I don't foresee it changing in the next hundred," Dumbledore replied, his face serious but his blue eyes twinkling. The rest of the staff did their best to keep the laughter at a minimum. Especially since most of them had been guilty of it themselves while attending school here.

"With that bit of traditional business handled," Dumbledore continued, "I have a few things to tell you all before we go any further. First off, I will be taking a bit of a leave this year." He held up his hands to stifle the murmurs of protest. "I am not stepping down as Headmaster. But I am thinking of when that will be inevitable. Consider me a Headmaster Emeritus for this year. Minerva will be taking over the day to day operations for me.

"This brings me to my second bit of news, a welcome to our new Transfiguration teacher." All eyes flashed to the woman sitting at the end of the table, a pinkish tinge around her cheeks. "This is Sarabina Callux. She'll be taking over the first and second year Transfiguration classes to free up Minerva's time a bit."

A murmur of welcome passed through the room, and Sarabina nodded hello to everyone, although Harry noted that she didn't meet his eyes. He struggled against the grimace that wanted to show on his face. Harry had grown used to the reaction to his fame with his first years, but it seemed odd to be feeling it from an adult again. Based on the nudge to the ribs Hermione gave him, she'd noticed as well.

"What?" he feigned ignorance.

"Looks like you've got an admirer. Shall I be on my guard then?" Her voice was so low, even he had trouble hearing it.

"Quiet," he growled with a grin, squeezing her hand below the table.

The staff meeting ended shortly after that and everyone gathered around Dumbledore and the new teacher, offering bon voyages and welcomes. Harry and Hermione stayed at the back and waited for the room to clear a bit. Once Sarabina had been released from the throng of teachers welcoming her, Hermione approached her as Harry headed for Dumbledore.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she smiled warmly. "I'm Hermione Potter, Muggle Studies."

"I know," she stammered. "I must say I was a bit nervous about taking the position, knowing that I'd be meeting you both. It's just such an honor."

Hermione kept the warm smile in place. Inside, she was dying to sputter over the "honor" bit. "You must be quite a teacher if Minerva is letting you rule over the first and second years, Sarabina."

"Please, call me Sara," she said with a slight quiver. "Well, both of my parents are teachers, so I guess you could say I grew up in a classroom." She seemed to soften a bit, her shoulders relaxing. "I met Minerva about five years ago at a seminar in Ireland, and we've been corresponding ever since. When she mentioned the opening here, I jumped at the chance to come teach at Hogwarts."

Hermione was about to ask what she'd been doing prior to this, but Sara's eyes shot somewhere over Hermione's shoulder and her jaw went a little slack. Hermione guessed correctly that Harry was standing behind her.

"Sara, this is my husband, Harry," Hermione introduced him needlessly.

"Oh I know. It's just such...I'm so pleasured...pleased...I mean it's a pleasure and an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter." Hermione felt Harry wince. She hadn't seen anyone this nervous around Harry since Colin Creevy had been a first year. Hopefully, the older woman's nerves would calm in time, just as Colin's had.

"It's just Harry, Sara. And I'm honored to meet you as well. Anyone Minerva trusts with Transfiguration is definitely someone worth meeting," he extended his hand. Hermione nearly chuckled at the tremor she saw in the other woman's hand and the flush threatening to set her face on fire.

"Oh, I'm not as skilled as Minerva," she stammered slightly. "It seems so odd, meeting you in person. I can still remember the first time I heard your name. I was ten and my parents were celebrating with the rest of our neighbors. My mum kept laughing and Butterbeer was flowing like a river. I don't think I've ever seen a celebration that exuberant..." She paused, and Hermione literally watched as the color drained out of her face.

"Sara?" Harry's brow furrowed and he reached out a hand to steady her in case she toppled over.

"I'm so sorry, Mr...Harry. I never...I didn't mean to imply that we were celebrating that your parents had been killed...I just..." She said more, but it was drowned out when she clapped her hands over her face.

Harry and Hermione's eyes met as they waited for Sara to recover herself. Hermione was trying desperately to conceal a grin. It wasn't working, and she was afraid that she'd have to either excuse herself or embarrass Sara further by laughing.

"Sara," Harry said gently. "Don't give it another thought. Believe me, it's not the first time I've heard of fabulous parties taking place the night my parents died. The defeat of Voldemort was an event worth celebrating."

Sara nodded, face still crimson and eyes still worried. Relief shone through her eyes as Minerva stepped up to them and drew her away. Hermione snorted softly into her hands as they walked out of the staff room.

"Oh Harry," she giggled once she was sure they were out of earshot. "You made her so nervous."

"I don't understand why," he grumbled.

"You're the hero of the wizarding world," she giggled again, batting her eyelashes at him. "You make all the girls swoon. And you're so handsome besides..."

"There's only one effective way to shut that mouth," Harry growled, taking her into his arms. "Unfortunately," he whispered as his arms tightened around her, "we don't have time for any serious corridor snogging. We've got nanny interviews this afternoon." He settled for a quick peck on the lips and led his wife down the corridor towards the entrance hall. Harry quietly hoped that Hermione wouldn't mention this to Ron or Draco. They'd never let him live it down.

Half an hour later, Hermione was just finishing up feeding Jamie as a knock came from downstairs. Their latest attempt at a nanny for Jamie, most likely. Hermione hoped that this one was competent. Hiring domestic help was not Hermione's forte, nor was it Harry's, it seemed. The young witch they'd hired two weeks ago had seemed so perfect in the interview. But once she'd arrived, they'd realized just how deceiving appearances could be. Hell, Hermione groaned inwardly, she'd been such a bubble head, she'd actually misplaced Jamie.

With a determined sigh, Hermione walked downstairs to find Harry deep in conversation with a young witch no more than eighteen. She was immediately put off. After the disaster that was Rosie, Hermione was really hoping for a more grandmotherly sort. Determined to at least give the girl a chance, she entered the room and introduced herself.

"I'm happy to meet you, Mrs. Potter. I'm Faren Jianesian," the girl stood before her, hand outstretched. Hermione took it, but remained wary. Rosie had been charming as well.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Faren, you're a bit young."

"Hermione?" Harry questioned. They both knew that most nannies were young women. He tried to catch her eye, but her gaze was fixed on Faren. He nearly laughed at the almost identical look on Faren's face.

"I'm eighteen, Mrs. Potter. I realize I didn't attend Hogwarts, but my family couldn't afford it. I have been magically trained by a local witch and have passed my NEWTs just this summer. I've always had an affinity for children. But if you think my age will be a detriment to my accepting this position, perhaps I should leave now before we waste any more of each other's time."

Harry sat back and waited. He could tell from Hermione's posture that she was feeling duly chastised. Her mouth opened and closed several times as her brain worked out the best response.

"You're eighteen?" Hermione said softly, "I know thirty year olds that aren't that articulate." She paused, and Harry could see the muscles working in her throat. "Well. Now that we know that you can deal with a boorish mother, let's see how you do with a spoiled baby girl."

Faren rewarded them with a slight smile and by the end of the afternoon, the Potters had finally employed a nanny they felt truly comfortable with.

*^*^*^*^*

Harry sat in front of his third years, assessing the terrified looks on all of their faces. Checking their course schedule explained it all. He sighed. Apparently, Sybill was still focused on the Gryffindors. Harry sighed again and turned over the sheaf of notes on his podium. Just as Minerva had so many years ago, Harry shared with them the secret of Professor Trelawney's predictions. "So then," he said a bit loudly, causing a few to jump in their seats and stop staring at Katia. "I'm assuming that Professor Trelawney has predicted another death?"

Ten pairs of eyes swung towards him as ten more jaws dropped. "Pro...Professor?" David asked.

"I'm assuming that Professor Trelawney hasn't altered her favorite way of greeting a new class. Who is the unfortunate soul this year?"

Katia's hand rose in the air and he saw a mix of skepticism and concern mar the young face.

"Take it as a compliment, Katia. She only does this to those she deems most able to handle it. Not so long ago, I was the object of her predictions. To this day, she pretends to flinch when she sees my palm." Harry didn't go into the other prediction she'd made - the one that had been spot on. For today's purposes, setting young minds at ease was a bit more pressing.

After the relieved sighing abated, Harry instructed them all to get out their books and uncovered a water filled tank containing a grindylow on his desk. A wave of nostalgia came over him for the teacher he'd loved most. Happy as he was for him, Harry still missed him.

He'd been waiting a year to finally be able to teach this Defense Against the Dark Arts class the way it was meant to be taught. Harry saw ten copies of _Defense Against Dark Creatures_ by R. Lupin appear one by one on top of the desks.

"As you've no doubt noticed, I've ordered a new book for this class. It's come highly recommended and I think it will help us greatly in our study of dark creatures this year."

*^*^*^**^^*

Harry watched his class file out, wishing that Remus could be here to see their faces. He ran a hand over the front cover of their new textbook and grinned. It seemed there _was_ gainful employment for a werewolf. He'd send Hedwig to him later tonight to let him know their reactions as he'd promised.

Harry swallowed a chuckle and packed his book and notes away in his desk drawer. He was just heading into his rear office when he caught sight of Annika, one of the Gryffindor seventh years.

"Annika," he called, "could I have a word with you?"

"Yes, Professor," she said, her voice low and serious. Her bookish manner had always reminded him a bit of Hermione, but without the waspish tongue or predilection for getting into trouble. As far as he knew, she had never lost so much as a point for Gryffindor in seven years.

"I wanted to ask you a favor," Harry began as she perched her hip on an empty desk. "Do you know Katia Jorgensen?"

"Third year?" The connection took place before Harry could say anything. Harry could see it in the slight upturn of her mouth. "Divination?"

"Yes. Professor Trelawney has predicted that she's the student to die this year."

"Can I ask you something?" Annika shifted her bag on her shoulder and looked slightly uneasy. "Has she ever been right?"

Harry paused and chose his words carefully. "About some things, yes. But so far as I know, she has never accurately predicted a student's death."

Annika looked satisfied, but not entirely convinced. Before he could question her further, however, he heard her name being called from down the hall.

"Right, then. Would you mind speaking with her tonight? Just to reassure her. I'm fairly sure she didn't take it to heart, but..."

"No problem, Professor," she smiled up at him and left the room a moment later.

Harry glanced at his watch and realized he had approximately ten minutes to get home before it was time to join everyone for dinner at Ember's Tavern.

*^*^*^*^*^

Dinner that night was a bit of raucous affair. Then again, it always was when they were together. The nine of them took up the better part of the rear of the restaurant, and the proprietress had since learned to put a few sound dampening spells around the area.

The only glitch in the evening's fun was the slight tension he felt from Ron and Mariah. She hadn't been with him when he'd arrived with Rianne nestled in his arms, but had arrived ten minutes later looking harassed. Ginny had asked what had kept her, but Mariah had waved the question off and immediately changed the subject.

"How's the new house?" she asked, brushing a kiss to Ron's temple. And immediately, Ginny, Hermione and Mariah began gushing over houses and furniture and decorating.

Ginny might have accepted the brush off, but Harry knew better. Mostly, he knew Ron's facial expressions well enough to know that his best friend was troubled about something. He made a mental note to ask him later.

As they ate, conversation jumped from one topic to another like Cornish pixies set loose in a room. Harry, Ron and Draco debated this year's Quidditch House teams, Mariah commiserated with Ginny and Hermione over the midnight feedings. Rianne, older than her cousins by three months, had passed that stage.

They all discussed Dumbledore's leave of absence and the changes since they'd left.

"I never thought that Minerva McGonagall would let anyone touch her Transfiguration classes, no matter how much extra work she had," Ginny commented.

"So far, I'm hearing nothing but praise for Sara. My first and second years seem to like her a lot," Harry commented. "She sounds a bit more," he glanced at Hermione, knowing her deep affection for the older teacher, "approachable than Minerva."

"I've heard the same thing," Hermione nodded, picking up on Harry's unease and gripping his hand lightly to reassure him. "But nothing's quite so dramatic as seeing an Animagus transfiguration on the first day of lessons."

"Speaking of dramatic first lessons," Ron asked, "is Sybill still up to her same trick?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but found himself once again gauging his words carefully. Since their discovery a few months ago that Sybill Trelawney was a Diviner like Mariah, they had started using the word "fraud" less often. At least when Mariah was within earshot.

"Yep," Harry answered blithely, trying to keep his tone light. "Still picking on the Gryffindors, too."

"Well, what did you expect, Harry?" Draco quipped. "All that reckless bravery? You lot are bound to end up broken and bloody over some ill thought out course of action. The Slytherins are much too ambitious to be easy targets for an early death. We let you take all the risk and find a way to turn it to our advantage and take all the credit."

"Sod off, Malfoy." Harry grinned as they all chorused the line together, even Ginny. He was beginning to wonder if they shouldn't stop, though. At this rate, that was likely to be the first phrase their children learned to say.

"Oh, Harry," Ron said during a lull in the conversation. "I hear you've got quite the admirer." From the look on his face, Harry guessed that he'd been just biding his time before dropping this bomb into the middle of the table. The only time Ron ever looked that excited was Christmas morning.

He shot a glare towards Hermione, but couldn't see a thing in her eyes. Except maybe a twinge of guilt. _Mariah_ , he thought, _she must have told Mariah._

"Really," Draco drawled, sitting forward eagerly. "Do tell. Some lithe young school girl?" That earned him an elbow to the stomach from his wife.

"Noooo," Ron drew the word out, clearly enjoying himself, "the aforementioned Transfiguration teacher."

"But didn't you say she was quite a few years older than us?" Ginny asked.

"She is," Harry said, hoping that would be the end of it. But Hermione had other ideas. She proceeded to tell them all about meeting Sara for the first time. He tried to tell her with his eyes that she'd be sorry for that later. Based on the laughter he saw reflected back at him, he realized she wasn't exactly shaking in her shoes about it. Pity she knew how much he loved her.

"Well, well, well. Coo coo ca choo," Mariah replied. Hermione laughed, Harry did too, a vague memory of the movie coming to mind. The other four just stared blankly. "It's from a Muggle movie, or, a song about it, really." She explained and then told them the story of the woman who seduced her daughter's much younger boyfriend.

"Maybe she'll write you a poem, Potter," Draco laughed. No one caught his wince of pain as Ginny pinched his leg hard under the table.

Harry could do nothing but bury his face in his hands. A few assorted giggles had developed into full out laughter as everyone took turns teasing him about his effect on the witch population. They took their sweet time in dropping it, too. Harry, for the first time since his name had popped out of the Goblet of Fire, desperately wished that the earth would simply open up and swallow him.

"Did you have to tell them?" he muttered to Hermione as she wiped tears from her cheeks. "Honestly, Hermione, couldn't you keep that between us? You had to tell Mariah?"

"Oh, Harry." She grinned up at him. She saw the glare in his green eyes and her own suddenly turned serious, "I'm sorry. It's just..." She stopped when he winked and threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Can dish out the jokes but can't take them, eh, love?"

Based on the evil glint in his eye, Hermione guessed that they wouldn't be doing a whole lot of sleeping that night regardless of how often Jamie woke up. Her blood heated at the thought. A devilish Harry was truly a wonder to behold.

Dinner wound down not long after. Both Morgan and Jamie began to express their adamant desires for their cribs and Rianne, not to be left out, promptly joined in. Harry stepped over to Ron as the rest pushed chairs in and gathered belongings.

"Ron," he said in a low voice, "what's going on?"

"Don't know what you mean, mate," Ron replied without meeting his eyes. Harry noted that his friend's ears had gone scarlet, but he didn't comment. If Ron wasn't ready to say anything, he would respect that. For now.

*^*^*^*^

"Where were you?" Ron asked Mariah the moment they closed the door behind them at their flat over the shop.

"I told you, I had errands to run," she answered, a bit more defensively than she probably should have. She left the room to put Rianne in her crib. Ron waited.

"For two hours?" he asked the moment she returned. He hated the suspicious tone of his voice, but was unable to keep it at bay.

"Yes, for two hours." The belligerence in her voice did nothing to improve the situation. "Ron," she sighed, slumping onto the couch and patting the spot beside her. He joined her immediately, concern replacing anger on his face. "If I could tell you what's going on, I would. But I can't."

"Does it have to do with the owl you got the night Jamie and Morgan were born?"

"Yes," she said laconically.

"Does it have to do with the Diviners?"

"Yes."

"Can't you trust me?" he asked with a bit more venom than he intended.

"It's not that simple, Ron."

"Yes, it is." He stood then moving in long angry strides to stand in front of their living room window. "It's just that simple," he ground out, his back still to her. "You've made it plain from the day you Apparated into this living room that there are parts of your life marked 'Mariah only'. Bloody hell, you didn't even tell me you were pregnant with Rianne. I found that one out by accident."

"I had..." she began.

"Your reasons," he finished. "I know. But that doesn't make it any easier to accept."

 _Ron?_ She asked after he'd been silent for a few minutes.

 __

 _Get out of my mind, Mariah. It's not somewhere you want to be right now. I can control what I say, but not what I think. And just now, there are some rather unpleasant thoughts rattling around in here. I hate blocking you, but I will if have to._

_

You can't accept that I'm protecting you by not telling you what's going on?

_

"No, I bloody can't," Ron roared, and then quieted his voice as he heard Rianne whimper. "You've told me you love me, Mariah. You've agreed to marry me. But I can't help but wonder what our future holds if you continue to keep secrets from me. I don't handle curiosity well," he added in a self-depreciating tone. "Just ask Hermione."

Mariah seemed to go through an internal debate, one he had no access to. The Diviner bonding did not allow the Bond to see within the Diviner's mind as easily. He could only feel her strongest emotions or physical sensations. When her eyes finally reached his, he felt scared for the first time in a long time. They were poised on a precipice here, but he knew he was right. If she couldn't trust him, they had no future.

"I don't like it that you have a point, Ron," Mariah said on an exhale, her brow furrowed. "I have kept things, important things, from you in the past. I've given you little reason to trust me and at the same time, I've expected you to do just that. And I'm sorry for that, very, very sorry. I guess my upbringing has left me used to keeping my own counsel. You're right, though. For us to have any chance at a future, I have to learn to confide in you and trust you with _every_ part of my life. I just hope that after I have told you everything, you still want that future."

She spoke for an hour straight. Ron at turns got angry, supportive, and downright shocked. But once she was finished, he knew there were no more secrets between them. What she'd told him hadn't been easy to hear or to accept. That was the funny thing about love, he supposed, because he did accept them. And he trusted her.

"Ron?" she asked tremulously.

"It's okay, angel. I understand. I know now why you felt you had to keep silent."

Mariah exhaled so strongly, Ron could feel her relief all the way through to his very soul. They didn't speak further of the events that may or not be coming. Of the things which might or might not be happening. But they spent the remainder of the night making love, reaffirming their commitment to each other and stalwartly refusing to look any further into the future than tomorrow.

As Mariah lay sleeping, curled into his side with her back to his front, Ron stroked her hair and listened to the easy sounds of her breathing. Now came the hard part, he thought. She had told him what was troubling her and had trusted him with that information. Now he had to keep those secrets for her. Keep them from his sister and most importantly, keep them from Harry and Hermione.


	2. Chapter 2

It was kind of like watching a circus, Harry thought with amusement as he sat sipping tea and perusing the morning's _Daily Prophet._ A one woman circus. He'd made the mistake of chuckling slightly...once. Now, all he could do was shoot supportive glances at Faren as Hermione careened from room to room like a rogue Bludger. The new nanny looked harassed and slightly comical, trying to keep up with the multitude of instructions his wife kept issuing. When she reminded Faren for the fourth time to feed Jamie lunch, Harry tried to step in again.

He waited until she swept into the kitchen and then called on his latent Quidditch training to nip his arm around her waist and pull her into his lap. He was prepared for struggling and clamped both arms around her tightly.

"Harry, what the devil are you doing? I need -" That was as far as she got. Harry's lips were in the way after that. In deference to their audience, he kept the kiss light enough not to make Faren uncomfortable, but deep enough to sidetrack his wife.

Once she'd stopped struggling, he loosened his hold and met her gaze. He knew if he laughed, it would be the last sound he made before she charmed his voice into something embarrassing, so he did his level best to keep his face straight.

"Hermione," he said softly, "we're only going to be a mile away."

She opened and closed her mouth several times, obviously searching for a rebuttal. Finally, he felt the tension ebb slightly and let himself grin when she gave a self-depreciating chuckle.

"I know. And I'm sorry," she directed this at Faren, who nodded in response. "It's just that today is my first day of classes. My first full day. I've never been apart from her for this long."

"And that's a hard situation for a control freak to be in," Harry supplied, again to Faren who smiled this time. Harry smiled too until Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

Jamie's cries interrupted them and Faren, looking grateful for the escape, went to get her from the crib. Hermione summoned the baby's bottle from the refrigerator and placed the warming spell on it before addressing Harry.

"I am _not_ a control freak," she said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Who color-coded her class notes in first year? Who kept track of every grade she ever received on any test? Who alphabetized the pantry last week?"

Hermione threw him a baleful glance before squaring her shoulders. "Exactly. That's called being obsessive-compulsive, Harry, not a control freak."

This time, Harry could no more control the laughter than he could stop the rising of the sun. And this time, she joined him. Faren brought Jamie in a moment later and placed her in Harry's arms. Hermione watched as he fed Jamie, eyes misting like they always did at the sight of their twin dark heads together.

They both kissed Jamie goodbye half an hour later and fastened their cloaks for the walk through the chilly morning air. Harry paused only briefly to ask Faren to forward any owls to him at the school.

"You expecting something?"

"Nothing important," Harry said casually. Hermione raised an eyebrow. He gave in to the inevitable. "I sent an owl to Seamus yesterday. I wanted to see if I could get a copy of the Muggle police report on the fire. Someone sent me that clipping for a reason, Hermione. I'm just trying to figure out why."

"Honestly, Harry. You need to stop reading those mysteries Mum sends you. I still think it's a waste of time, but if it'll satisfy your curiosity and Seamus doesn't mind..."

"You're the one that kept going on about closure, Hermione. I thought you'd be behind me on this."

"Oh, I am," she said, "I'm always behind you. I just think you're wasting your time. Even if it wasn't a close friend, it's not like your life with the Dursleys was any big secret. Any witch or wizard could have seen that article in the paper and sent it to you. I just don't see great hulking mysteries behind simple things arriving in the post, I suppose."

Harry dropped the subject, knowing there would be no convincing her without proof. She hadn't changed one iota in that regard. He just wanted to get rid of the nagging sense at the base of his skull that something wasn't quite right about the whole incident.

They lapsed into silence for a bit, until Harry noticed her fourth furtive glance behind them towards their house.

"She's going to be fine, love."

"Which one?"

Harry chuckled. "Both, I guess. You all set for your first day?"

"I'm not exactly a novice at this, you know," she replied indignantly.

"True, but it is your first term teaching more than one class."

"Says the wizened old professor," she said, smacking him on the rear. "How about you?" she asked, sobering slightly. She knew what today was, what he'd be starting with his seventh years. And she knew it was the reason he'd tossed and turned most of the previous night.

When she'd been living in America, not knowing who she really was, they had connected in their dreams. Sometimes, she could still see what went on while his conscious mind rested.

Last night had been one of those times.

"I'm okay, I think," Harry said truthfully. "It's been a long time since fourth year. And before you get that look on your face, Hermione Potter, I'm not closing it off or refusing to deal with it. I'm just saying that so much has happened since Crouch taught us those curses, that it's little more than a bad memory."

"And yet you dreamt of a graveyard last night, Harry."

"Yes, I did. And you pulled me out of it, didn't you?"

"That wasn't me," Hermione said suddenly, a slight blush to her cheeks as she vividly recalled what had happened after her dream self had distracted Harry away from the graveyard. "That was your subconscious' version of me. Which reminds me, I'd like to know exactly how you got _that_ idea into your head?"

"Out of the question then?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"Maybe," she answered cryptically before darting through the oak front doors ahead of him. He caught her arm, pulled her into a very familiar looking broom cupboard off the entrance hall and kissed her until she was panting.

"Okay, probably not," she grinned.

They were still chuckling when they parted for their separate corridors, and Harry was eternally grateful that professors wore billowing robes.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Ten minutes later, Harry stood in front of his seventh year students and tried to look confident. He'd been blasé with Hermione earlier, trying to put her mind at ease as well as his own. But the time had come to teach his students about the baser aspects of fighting the Unforgivable Curses.

The time had come to face another demon from his past.

"If you'll all settle in," Harry said, forcing his voice to sound even. He waited while they shifted books and ended conversations to turn towards him. "You've been studying the Dark Arts for six years now," he began, "and you may think you know all there is. But there is much more to learn. If any of you are thinking of becoming Aurors, you'll get more intense training there, but it's my job this year to give you a base. A running start at fighting and repelling those aspects of the Dark Arts that you may encounter."

"Prior to June of this year, only two of the Unforgivable Curses had reasonably effective counters. You can impede the Imperius Curse by recognizing the sensation that fills your mind and using that knowledge to fight it. And you can block the pain of the Cruciatus Curse with the counter written by Dr. Longbottom two years ago. In this year's studies, we will be practicing the former, but not the latter.

"It is not well known yet," Harry allowed a slight smile to tug at the corners of his mouth, "but there is now a counter for _Avada Kedavra_ as well."

A cacophony of whispering voices met that statement, and Harry felt pride fill him.

"Professor Granger spent most of last year working on perfecting this counter and her efforts were successfully employed only recently."

A hand shot up in the rear of the classroom and Harry paused. "Yes?"

"Does that mean the user no longer disappears or loses their memory?" asked a slightly red faced boy with a smirk. Daniel, if he remembered correctly. He saw Annika glare over at him.

"That's correct, Daniel," Harry commented and tried to keep his face blank as a wave of painful memories crowded into his mind. He forced them out rapidly. He would not allow that section of his past to influence his future any longer. Nor would he allow his anger at the young boy's smirk to show itself.

"Will we be learning it?" Annika asked.

"No, not in this class. As of this moment, it's being broken down and taught at the Aurors Institute. For this year, we will concentrate on Imperius and some of the other, less life threatening Dark Arts you are likely to encounter."

Harry held his students in rapt attention for the remainder of the double period, promising them hands on practice at fighting the Imperius curse in their next class. He felt the air rush from his lungs as the bell signaled the end of the lesson. It hadn't been so hard after all.

*^*^*^*^*^*

Harry headed to the staff room rather than the Great Hall for lunch after class. There was considerably less food, but had the benefit of not having to watch over hundreds of students at the same time. For this luxury, the staff took turns in the Great Hall. This, fortunately, was not his week.

He found Hermione sitting at one of the tables, studying something intently with Minerva. Sara was standing near the rear of the room, slowly pouring water over a tea bag, her inattention causing it to spill over.

"Careful," Harry said as he took the kettle from her and replaced it on the counter. He almost wished he'd stayed where he was and let her discover the spill on her own. The moment she realized he was in front of her, the cup went crashing to the floor. With a clatter of china on wood, tea went everywhere. Luckily, his robes soaked up most of the tea and he wasn't scalded. Neither was Sara, unless you counted the bright red spots on her cheeks.

"Mr...Harry. I'm so sorry," Sara spluttered, reaching for her wand and cleaning the mess with a swish and flick.

"No harm done, Sara. Are you all right?"

Sara glanced briefly at Hermione and Minerva, then turned her attention back to Harry. "I'm fine." Before Harry could tell her she didn't _look_ fine, she'd left the staff room entirely, her long blonde hair trailing behind her like a cloak.

Shaking his head slightly, Harry headed towards Hermione. Neither she nor Minerva looked up when he sat down. They were too busy poring over several pieces of parchment. "Hello?" he joked, leaning over to kiss Hermione's cheek.

"Look at this," Hermione turned towards him and thrust a piece of parchment into his hands. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and she seemed to be having trouble breathing properly.

Harry scanned the parchment in his hands. Hermione was being asked to leave that night for the Aurors Institute. They were about to begin instruction on her counter and wanted her to address the students, as well as the current Aurors in residence, before they began. The envelope contained a portkey that would activate at seven that evening. She was to plan a three day absence.

Harry felt pride over his wife's accomplishments. At the same time, he felt a pit form in his stomach as he read the dates. She'd be gone for three days. For the first time since their wedding, they'd be separated. True, he'd spent a miserable two weeks living in the Astronomy Tower earlier that year, but at least he'd still seen her every day.

Hermione seemed to realize the focus of his thoughts and reached over to caress his hand.

"Is it possible, Minerva?" Harry asked, wondering about her classes. "Will you be able to find a substitute?"

"Not a worry about that, Harry. I'll teach them myself if I have to. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, and there is no way I'd let her miss it."

The bell rang just then and the other professors headed out of the staff room towards their mid morning lessons. Neither Harry nor Hermione moved. Once they were alone, Harry stood, taking Hermione with him and wrapping his arms around her.

"Are you all right with this?" Hermione asked quietly after he let go of her lips.

"Of course I am," Harry grinned. "I've always wanted to know what that place is like. Now you can tell me. Minerva's right, this is not an opportunity to miss. Just so long as those trainees know that you're there to teach them about the counter and nothing else."

"As if," Hermione laughed as they left the staff room for their own classes.

Hermione was just about to turn down the Muggle Studies corridor when a flash of blonde hair caught her eye.

"Mariah?" she called.

The other witch turned suddenly towards her. It was Mariah, but she looked quite distracted.

"Hello, Hermione," she said softly.

"What are you doing at the castle?"

"I'm not at the castle," Mariah said in the same low tone, repeating the sentence several times before walking away.

When Hermione reached her classroom five minutes later, she had no memory of seeing Mariah there at all.

*^*^*^*^*^

All in all, Ron thought later, it didn't take nearly as long as he'd expected it to. He'd become quite adept at cooling Mariah's temper over the past year. This time had taken all of his considerable skill and a few well-timed ducks, but at least she wasn't heaving crystal across the room anymore. At least, he didn't think she was.

When she'd stormed through the shop half an hour ago, he'd taken one look at her face and turned the open sign to closed and followed her up the stairs. By the time he'd found her, she'd just finished placing a silencing charm over the bedroom where Rianne was napping and had chucked her first goblet at the wall.

"I hate this, Ron," she shouted as the glass shattered. "I had to Persuade Hermione today. She saw me at the castle, and I had to make her forget it. She's my best friend; she trusts me and I just betrayed that trust. All because that...." The rest was lost in a string of expletives that had even Ron's ears burning.

"Angel?" he said tentatively, still on guard although it had been nearly two minutes since any glass had shattered.

"What?" she spit out, using her wand to clean up the mess.

"Why don't you just tell her? Tell all of them?" He squashed the urge to crouch when she picked up another goblet, only relaxing when she placed it on the table.

"I can't, Ron. You know that. Besides, what good would it do?"

Ron sighed, knowing she was right. He loved Mariah more with each passing day, but was beginning to rue the day he'd ever heard the word Diviner. Their methods and their secrecy were wearing on Mariah and on him. He might understand the reasons behind it, that didn't mean he had to like it.

They'd just returned the apartment to normal when a pair of owls arrived and began a near comical struggle to be the first through the window. Ron, recognizing one, told Hedwig to let the other one in first. She did not appear pleased and nipped his ear a bit painfully before she left.

Ron was just unrolling Harry's note when he saw Mariah's face redden again.

"Oh, I don't believe this," Mariah growled, crumpling up the parchment in her hand and throwing it. "That's just it. Loyalty is one thing, but she's pushing the bounds of an old friendship too far."

Ron shook his head slowly and turned his attention to Harry's note.

 __

 _Ron - Hermione's leaving town for a few days tonight. Auror's Institute. How about meeting at our house after Rianne's asleep for a bit of a wizard's night?_

"Mariah?" Ron said, his voice shaky. She must have picked up on his tone or heard his thoughts, because she was at his side a second later. Their eyes met after she scanned the note.

"Hermione's going away?" They asked each other in unison with equal amounts of dread and foreboding.

*^*^*^*^*

It took Hermione a bit longer than she expected to clear her desk for the few days she'd be gone. But she was at least confident that her classes would have plenty to do in her absence and that no detail had been overlooked.

She walked in the front door of the house, surprised to hear laughter from the lounge and went straight there to investigate. Harry was sitting on the floor with Jamie in his lap. Sirius' face was in their fireplace. At least she thought it was Sirius. His face was screwed up in such a comical expression, it was nearly unrecognizable. Jamie was laughing, though, so she assumed he'd achieved his goal.

"I'd better be off, Harry, if I'm going to get in touch with Remus. He's been dodging me lately, but we'll ambush him tonight."

"Right then. Until later?"

"I'll be there at eight, dragging Moony by the scruff if need be." His head disappeared with a small _pop,_ and Hermione walked fully into the room, removing her cloak.

"Tonight?" she said when Harry stood to kiss her.

"Yes. As you're leaving me bereft, I thought it only fitting that I console myself with my true companions."

"You want a night to sit around and badmouth witches and tell nasty jokes," Hermione corrected.

"That, too," Harry grinned. He was just about to pull her into his arms when a throat cleared somewhere over Harry's shoulder. Faren was standing just outside the room, looking a little uneasy.

"Is this the letter, Mr. Potter?" she asked, fastening her own cloak and indicating the envelope in her hand.

"Yes. You sure you don't mind walking it down there?"

"Not in the slightest. Shall I take Jamie in her pram?"

"That would be perfect."

Hermione was about to raise a protest, but he silenced her with a look. Once the nanny had left on her errand, Harry wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her into a deep kiss.

"What was that all about?" she asked when Harry finally let her up for air.

"I thought we could have a little goodbye time in private," Harry grinned, taking her hand and leading her towards the stairs.

"And the letter?" she laughed, her pulse increasing out of sheer anticipation.

"A ruse. I told her I didn't want to use Hedwig as it's going so far away. She'll take it down to the post office and send it off. The envelope will disintegrate five minutes after the owl takes flight."

They'd just reached the stairs, but a knock at the door halted their progress. Growling, Harry turned to open it.

"Bloody fabulous timing, Malfoy," Harry scowled.

Draco looked from one to the other, then cleared his throat. "I won't keep you as I've obviously interrupted something important. I just wanted to let you know that I won't be able to make it tonight."

Hermione took in the pair of them and told Harry she'd be upstairs packing.

"Why?" Harry asked once she'd left.

"Harry, I realize we've all become friends over the past year, but I think this might be pushing it a bit too hard. It would be different if it was just the three of us, but I seriously doubt that Lupin or Black would welcome me into the family fold." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco stopped him with an upraised hand. "That's nothing personal against either of them, Harry. It's just the way it is. Think about it this way - how eager would you be to join Severus and me at the Three Broomsticks?"

Harry didn't even try to stop the shudder. And because of the mental image Draco had given him, he didn't try to change the other man's mind. Besides, he thought, as he closed the door, he had other more important matters to take care of at the moment.

When they heard the front door close forty minutes later, Hermione sprang from the bed and dressed hurriedly. As always, they'd gotten so caught up in each other, they hadn't noticed the time slipping away. Harry threw on his old clothes and went down to take Jamie and send Faren home for the night while Hermione threw clothes into a trunk.

Harry was sitting on the couch with their daughter when Hermione joined them, pausing to end the levitation spell on the trunk before walking over to them. Jamie squirmed when she saw her and Hermione cuddled the pink bundle into her arms, fighting back a few tears. She hadn't let herself dwell on leaving Jamie, on being away from her for three days, because then she'd never pick up that portkey to the Institute. But her counter was as much her creation as Jamie was and she wanted to ensure it was taught, and understood, properly. That didn't make it hurt any less, though.

"I've never left her, Harry," she said softly. "How can I do this? What kind of mother leaves her infant daughter?"

"A professional one, Hermione," Harry soothed, stroking the hair back from her face and wiping at the tears with his fingers. "This is the chance of a lifetime, Hermione, you can't let it pass. Jamie and I will be just fine."

The clock chimed the hour in the kitchen. According to the letter, her portkey would be viable until ten past seven. Hermione kissed Jamie, and then Harry, one last time before walking to her trunk. "I love you," she said, the vague shimmer of tears still evident in her voice.

"We love you, too." Harry took one of Jamie's hands and helped the baby wave goodbye to her mum.

The portkey activated the moment she touched it, and a second later, Hermione was gone.

"Well, love," Harry said to Jamie as he lifted her to his shoulder, his voice a bit thick with his own sorrow at watching her leave, "we've got a party to plan for. All ready to wind your granddad around your little finger?"

^*^*^*^*^

Harry and Ron paused on the staircase before returning to the lounge. Sirius and Remus were apparently in the middle of some argument, and they didn't want to interrupt. They were just about to head back upstairs quietly, but decided to forgo it when they heard their names.

"Remus, you didn't see them day to day back then. I'm still convinced that's when it really began, even if they were too thick to realize it."

"That may be, Sirius, but I still say Ron had more than a passing fancy for her. Doesn't matter if she knew, or if Harry knew. The rest of the castle did. Minerva told me of the fighting, the silences...apparently, the odds were four to one that Ron and Hermione would be dating by the time they took their OWLs."

"Rubbish," Sirius growled. "I don't care what the odds were running, or what anyone else said at the time. When they came for me that night, I could just sense it. And I continued to sense it all through the letters and visits following that. There was never anyone else for Harry but Hermione...and the same went for her."

"Are we interrupting?" Harry said casually as he and Ron strode back in and seated themselves. "Or would you like us to leave so you can continue discussing our love lives?"

They both had the good grace to look abashed. Remus, however, wouldn't be dissuaded.

"Am I wrong?" he asked simply.

"Completely," said Harry.

"Not entirely," said Ron.

The room went silent. Harry turned to Ron, not even bothering to hide the shock. "What do you mean, not entirely?"

"Just what I said, Harry. Not entirely. I think it's safe enough to say now, given that you're happily married and I'm happily engaged. But Hermione was my first crush. Well, the first girl I noticed, at any rate. And I'm staking our entire friendship on your silence over this, Harry. Because she doesn't know and I'd like to keep it that way. I think she may have had an idea of the direction of my thoughts - especially after that whole Yule Ball fiasco - but she never said anything. And neither did I."

"But, why...?"

Ron cut Harry off with a wave of his hand. "Remember that summer, Harry? Right after the Triwizard Tournament, when Dumbledore finally let you come back to the Burrow?"

"Of course I do. Hermione came for the last week of the summer holidays. She'd just gotten over the flu or something."

Sirius cleared his throat then; Remus quickly followed suit. Ron swallowed audibly. "She's never told you?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked, feeling like he was stepping into someone else's life.

"She didn't have the flu, Harry. She'd been suffering from horrendous nightmares all summer. She hadn't slept since we'd left school -- not properly, anyway. She was writing to all three of us by then. I know she wrote to you as well, but that her letters were mostly filled with lies about how great her summer was."

Harry nodded vaguely, remembering how good it had felt to get mail that didn't mention anything about school, or Voldemort, but just about the vagaries of Hermione's day.

"Mum wrote and asked Claudia if Hermione could come and stay with us, telling her we�d have you as well, Harry. They both thought that if she could see with her own eyes that you were alive and well, that the nightmares might stop. And they did. She told me later that she'd slept the whole night through for the first time in months once we were all together again." Ron paused, gathering his thoughts. He could read Harry nearly as well as Hermione, and he knew what Harry was thinking. And he knew humor was the only way to diffuse that.

"So there I was, fifteen years old, just discovering what girls were all about, and the object of my affection spends four hours crying in my arms over another man." He heaved a dramatic sigh and placed a hand over his heart.

Harry raised an eyebrow towards his best friend, not really knowing how to feel about what he'd just heard. Had he really been that thick? He'd seen the fighting between his two best friends as nothing more than their ordinary bickering. He'd never imagined that Ron had serious feelings for Hermione...but now he knew differently. Now he knew that Ron had had romantic feelings for Hermione. He also knew that he'd trampled all over those feelings. Because it had been during fifth year that he'd started to realize his own feelings for Hermione. Fifth year was when he'd begun lamenting to his best friend about the change in his heart.

"Harry?" Ron said, knowing the faraway expression on Harry's face. He was brooding again.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said, thickly.

"Bollocks to that, mate," Ron laughed. "One thing you should note here, Harry. Sirius was dead right earlier. There was never anyone else for Hermione. Or for you. Once I realized that, I decided it would be more fun to sit back and watch it happen. That's probably my only regret. Maybe if I'd done more to help the pair of you get on with it, she wouldn't've...you wouldn't've...."

Silence reigned supreme for a while as each of the room's occupants mulled over what could have been. In the end, it was Jamie that broke the silence. Sirius stood and walked to the staircase.

"I'll get her, Harry," he grinned.

"Just let her fuss for a bit, Sirius. You'll spoil her."

"Check under the description of 'grandfather', Harry. Spoiling her is my right and my obligation."

A brief, somewhat tense chuckle filled the room. When Sirius returned a moment later, cradling Jamie in his arms and seating himself in the rocker by the fire, he had obviously decided a change was in order.

"So, Remus, tell us about _your_ love life."

Jamie found herself being rocked back to sleep with the sounds of Remus' protestations and laughter from her father, grandfather and uncle.

*^*^*^*

Draco sat at the bar, studying his old professor closely. Something was wrong with Severus and he hadn't a clue how to draw the man out. Granted, he wasn't a man given to smiling but once in a millennium, but Draco knew him well enough to see the difference. And because Severus had helped him, simply by being there for him at times when his own father wasn't, Draco wanted to return the favor.

"I'm surprised you're not with Potter and Weasley," the older man said softly. "I heard Potter in the staffroom earlier today talking about a wizard's night or some such rubbish."

Draco smiled. "Well, he did invite me. But an evening with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black was not my idea of a fun time."

"I'd rather stick needles in my eyes as well," Severus nodded grimly. Draco noticed the way his former professor's eyes kept darting up to the mirror behind the bar. For a fleeting moment, he thought Severus might be looking at the reflection of a blonde in the mirror, but dismissed that notion immediately. "You're getting quite close with that lot."

"Does that bother you?" Draco asked quietly.

"Not as much as you might think," the potions master said with the ghost of a smile. "I could blather on about the love of a good woman and the warmth of close friends, but I won't. It just does me good to see you happy, Draco. No one deserves it more."

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Severus he wanted the same thing for him, but it was uneasy ground to breach. Close as they were, Draco had never ventured into his teacher's personal life. But something in the man's face made him press on where he would usually have detoured.

"And what about you, Severus? Are you happy?"

Severus' eyes darted back up to the mirror before coming to rest on the glass in front of him again. "I'm content, Draco."

Any further examinations over Severus' personal life were clearly not on the agenda, because before Draco could even open his mouth, he began talking about the Slytherin Quidditch team's dismal prospects for the Cup this year.

Out of respect, Draco allowed the subject to be changed. But he in no way considered the subject dropped.

*^*^*^*^

For Harry, it was three of the longest days of his life. Thankfully, they would end that night when Hermione came home. His heart thumped in triple time just thinking about their reunion...and Faren's almost joking offer to walk Jamie to London and back when Hermione got home.

After the first rather raucous night with Sirius, Remus and Ron, things had settled down into mind numbing quiet. Jamie kept him busy in the evenings, but time with his daughter only made Hermione's absence more palpable. The shape of her face reminded him constantly of his wife, and every time she smiled, his heart felt the separation even more.

In a very small way, though, he was glad of their distance and inability to communicate. He had needed time to think before he saw her again. No matter that he'd laughed it off with the others; he was very upset that she hadn't told him of her nightmares that summer before fifth year.

The other, more rational side of him, argued that she had been acting for his benefit - and that her letters that summer, filled with no mention of anything serious, had saved him from dwelling on Cedric's death and Voldemort's return. That her letters had very nearly kept him sane. As a matter of fact, he had Faren to thank for remembering that.

He'd been in a foul mood the entire day following their little party. He'd snapped at his students, been curt with the other staff members, and had told off the Gryffindor Quidditch team when they'd requested his help at training their new seeker. He knew he had to apologize, especially to the team captain, Annika, for his behavior. But that night, he hadn't been able to care.

Faren had just been about to leave. Her cloak had been fastened, her bag over her shoulder, but she'd stood in the foyer watching him pace.

"Mr. Potter?" she asked softly.

"What?" he'd snapped, causing her to jump slightly.

"Is anything the matter?"

"No."

"Is it me? Are you upset with something I've done or haven't done?"

Harry softened at that. He hadn't realized until just then that his brusque manner had more far reaching implications than needing to spread apologies everywhere. Faren had proved herself to be invaluable as a nanny, and he didn't fancy explaining to Hermione that they had to find a new one due to his rudeness.

"No, Faren. It's not you, I promise." Harry had tried for a smile, but he was afraid it came across more like a grimace.

"Can I help?"

Harry had opened his mouth to send her home, but he hadn't. Instead, he had started to ramble. Over the course of his diatribe, Faren had removed her cloak and motioned him to follow her into the kitchen. As he'd told her every little detail that was bothering him, she'd fried up eggs and sausages and had pushed him to eat between speeches. By the time he'd run out of words, he was full to bursting and feeling better than he had all day.

"If you ask me," she'd said once he finished, "I think that's a greater sign of love than any I've heard. Any time someone puts another before themselves, well, that's just a gift, isn't it?"

That night, as he'd laid awake missing Hermione's comforting warmth, he'd realized that Faren had been absolutely right. What greater sign of love could he have asked of Hermione than she help him to focus on mundane things, rather than dwell on what had happened or could happen in the future. There was nothing to gain from her even knowing that he knew. And if he was going to hold her accountable for her actions as a 15 year old witch, well, that was just opening himself up for loads of defensive posturing as well.

*^*^*^*^*

It had taken Harry most of the following day to feel that he had been suitably contrite to those who had crossed his path. He went a bit easier on his students, apologized to the other staff members, and had agreed to observe Quidditch practice for Gryffindor later in the week.

The bell rang overhead, signaling the beginning of the lesson. He could almost feel the apprehension of his students. Today was the day they'd been looking forward to since the first day of classes. Today, they would begin learning how to throw off the Imperius curse. Much to their dismay, he'd planned on lecturing for the first half of the double period. Harry finally gave up after forty minutes when he realized they were too excited and apprehensive to concentrate.

"Right then," he said, shifting his notes off the podium and into a drawer. "Who's first?"

Harry nearly laughed when every hand shot into the air.

One by one, he singled them out. One by one, they performed acrobatics, sang loudly and, in Daniel's case, hopped up and down while singing _God Save the Queen_. A few of them were just beginning to get a firm grip on trying to resist when the bell rang. Groans echoed through the large room, and Harry laughed as he promised them they could continue work on it next time.

Students were just beginning to file out when he heard a very familiar voice.

"Professor Potter? Are you available for tutoring?"

Harry whipped around and caught Hermione in a death grip before the echo of her last word had faded.

Their kiss held nothing back as each tried to forget the days apart. Harry felt as though his soul were being refilled at each caress of her silky tongue. He fisted his hands into the hair at the nape of her neck, trying to pull her mouth closer to his. Vaguely, he heard a door slam, but it didn't deter him in the slightest. The only thing that mattered right now was the firm set of lips beneath his. His hands slid down to fill with the weight of her breasts. It was only when he felt layers of clothing rather than smooth skin that his brain caught up and reminded him where he was.

He gentled his mouth on hers and started to rain whisper light kisses to her throat as they filled their lungs with oxygen.

"Did you miss me?" she sighed when his lips found the hollow below her right ear.

"Not in the slightest," he grinned, "whatever would have given you that idea?"

Hermione chuckled and then pulled back, her hands cupping his face. "It's your eyes, Harry. You must have charmed them because I couldn't close my own without seeing them."

"Well, you've put the same one on me then, love. I couldn't sleep for wanting to see your face before I drifted off."

Rapt in each other, it took a great deal of coughing for Hermione to remember she'd brought someone with her.

"Jason," she said, turning a bit pink at the ears, "I'm so sorry."

"Quite all right," the man Jason said easily. Harry got the feeling he didn't quite mean it.

"Harry, this is Jason Matthews. He's one of the Aurors I taught. He's stationed near here, so we traveled back together."

Jason held out his hand, which Harry shook, keeping his left arm around Hermione's shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Jason." The other man's grip was surprisingly firm. He was an attractive sort, Harry thought, light brown hair that fell perfectly into place and brown eyes nearly the color of Hermione's. And though average in height, Harry still had to look up to see them.

Harry noticed the way the other man's eyes flicked upward. It still amazed him that people almost refused to believe it was really him without seeing the scar. As he knew it was covered by his bangs, and to save Jason from having to ask, Harry casually pushed his hair away from his face to make the scar visible for a moment. Jason seemed to nod and he didn't mention it.

"I'll just leave you two..."

Hermione shifted as though she was going to protest, but said her goodbyes instead. The moment he was gone, Harry pulled her back into his arms and kissed her gently this time. Neither noticed, nor cared, that the classroom door was still ajar. It wasn't like the Hogwarts newlyweds hadn't been caught snogging in an empty classroom before.

"I feel bad," Hermione said softly. "I'd said we'd take him to dinner tonight. But I don't think I realized how much I truly missed you until I saw you again."

"I'm sure he understands."

Neither of them said anything else for quite some time. Before he got too carried away, Harry engaged the locking charm on the classroom door and pulled Hermione into the empty teacher's quarters behind them. Faren's offer to give them some time alone tonight was fine, but Harry knew he'd never last the short walk home.

Even with the interlude in his office, they'd barely been able to contain themselves once they'd returned home.

^*^*^*^*^

 __

 _Journal Entry_

 _I saw them together today. After the misery of their separation, to be so close again. It just seems so wrong. The one I now know to be my beloved...I can't bear the trickery, the deception...It breaks my heart to see my beloved so enchanted, so unaware...my beloved will know, will understand, in the fullness of time how we are meant to be one. How magical our future will be._

 _My beloved will know me, as I know my beloved. And we will be together forever._

*^*^*^*^

It was almost comical sometimes, how history had a knack of repeating itself. At least this time, no one ended up belching slugs.

The two rival Quidditch teams had met early that morning on the pitch, both dressed in track suits and ready for practice. One team was led by Harry, the other by Draco. The older men, however, were the only ones to see the humor in it.

"Clear off, Daria," Annika growled towards the other team's captain.

Daria, a Slytherin sixth year, was just reaching for her wand when Draco stepped in front of her. Harry and Draco exchanged another humorous look, which seemed to infuriate both teams. "Listen, you lot," he said loudly over the grumbling. "Both teams need help and this pitch is big enough for both of us."

Harry had begun to put two and two together, and realized why Draco was there. "Did Snape ask you to help them, Draco?" Harry said, pulling him aside.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know, you call everyone else by their first name, why not him?"

"Habit," Harry shrugged. "He still calls me Potter. But on to the point. Are they training a new seeker?"

"Yes. Apparently, the kid does well enough in practice, but not during game time. He's Muggle born and hasn't seen Quidditch played before."

Harry and Draco seemed to come to the same idea at the same time. Grins split both of their faces as they explained their plan to the respective teams. Hermione and Ginny would have told them they looked like boys with brand new toys.

Within ten minutes, both teams were in the air, with Harry and Draco renewing their rivalry with a vengeance. The two young seekers were flying above them, watching it all with rapt attention.

"Don't know why they even asked you, Malfoy. It's not like you ever caught the snitch against me," Harry called, pacing Draco easily.

"That's because you're a sodding cheat, Potter," Draco called back affably.

The practice went on for a long time. Harry and Draco both were enjoying themselves so much, that they kept forgetting to look for the snitch...but then a flutter of wings down near the ground caught Harry's eye, then Draco's, and all fun was shelved. They were back to competing against each other - each diving and rolling, knocking into each other and hurling insults in their quest to reach the snitch first.

"Potter! Malfoy!"

The loud booming voice of Minerva McGonagall had both of them halting their brooms in mid-dive. The Interim Headmaster looked as menacing as ever, Harry thought. A small part of him wondered if she'd take points from the houses just because they were alumni. They maneuvered over to her and dismounted. Draco, he was glad to see, looked just as abashed as he felt.

"Just what in the name of heaven do you think you're doing?"

The rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin team members remained in the air. _Cowards_ , Harry thought.

Harry felt like a student himself after the dressing down Minerva had given him. Once she'd finished telling him off for luring the students into breaking the rules regarding Quidditch practices, Harry motioned the rest down to the ground. They complied, but slowly, obviously wanting to make sure Minerva was well away before they touched down.

"Does that happen often?" Draco asked as they watched the others landing.

"What?"

"Her treating you like you're still a student?"

"Only when I act like one," Harry grinned.

The teams paired off after that to discuss what they'd seen and done in the impromptu scrimmage. Annika handed out towels to her sweaty players and mopped her own brow with the last one. Harry was glad to see that the new Gryffindor seeker year looked a bit more confident.

The team was heading back towards the locker room when he heard the unmistakable sound of babies gurgling. Sure enough, Ginny and Hermione, as well as Ron and Mariah, were walking towards them across the grass.

"What are you lot doing here?" Harry asked them.

"Are you kidding? Look up there, Harry." Ron was pointing towards the school. A large crowd was just beginning to disperse. "I'm surprised more people from the village didn't turn up. Most were just going up onto rooftops to watch, but we wanted a better view. Imagine the headlines tomorrow, Potter and Malfoy: The Rematch."

"Shut it, Ron," Harry groaned. _Surely not_ , he thought hopefully.

"So this is what you snuck out of bed this morning for?" Ginny said sounding indignant, one hand on her hip. Her other arm held Morgan until Draco plucked him out of her arms.

"Yes, dear," Draco said in a poor imitation of a henpecked husband. He hoisted his son over his head and smiled at the belly laugh Morgan gave him in return. Ginny waited until Morgan was secure in Draco's arms before continuing.

"Don't you mock me, Draco Malfoy. I'm bloody infuriated with you." She waited a beat before starting to grin. "I never get a chance to see you fly anymore," she smiled. "Back me up, ladies, it's just something to see them astride those broomsticks, isn't it?"

"Personally, I'd rather be _on_ the broomstick," Mariah commented off hand. Her face went scarlet when she realized the way that sounded.

"Load of perverts, that's what you are," she grinned.

*^*^*^*^*^

As it was Saturday, it was the night of their weekly catch up dinner. This time, they'd taken over the rear portion of the Three Broomsticks. Hermione had caught sight of Jason and had invited him to join them, and he had, although briefly. Drink in hand, he'd wandered over to the table and allowed himself to be introduced. His eyes paused and studied Draco before moving on to Ginny and the rest of the group. Harry supposed there would always be a bit of tension between anyone carrying the title Auror and anyone bearing the last name Malfoy. Hopefully, Draco would be able to change that.

Jason had pulled a vacant chair next to Hermione and had spoken quietly with her for a few moments. Harry had tried to eavesdrop, but the Auror must have used a silencing spell on his voice. Not that that surprised him -- especially if the man was from the Moody School of Paranoia. If he was married to any other witch, he probably would have suspected the man of trying to hit on his wife. But Hermione could more than handle herself, he knew, and if the way she was currently caressing his thigh was any indication, she had no plan on straying any time soon.

The conversation had turned to Ginny's column starting in an American Wizarding publication the next month when Harry spotted a familiar face at the bar. Sara was seated with her back to them, her straight blonde hair ending in a loose plait. She didn't make direct eye contact, but he could see her gaze flitting toward their table more than once. He'd wanted to ask her to join them, but Hermione's skillful fingers had made rising from the table a really bad idea.

Jason left the table a few moments later and Harry leaned over to whisper in Hermione's ear. "Just what are you doing, Mrs. Potter?"

The innocent face she pulled didn't fool him. "Having fun, Mr. Potter," she grinned, her eyes twinkling. "Is that Sara?" she asked, following his eyes as they glanced that way again.

"Looks like her, want to take your life into your hands and invite her over?"

"It might mean more, coming from you," she winked.

"Well, I would. But someone at this table has ensured that I can't stand without embarrassing myself for at least another five minutes."

"Draco playing footsie with you again?"

Harry laughed as he pulled her in for a kiss. It was deep enough so that he'd made her nearly as uncomfortable as he was, but not showy enough to make the others poke fun at them.

Hermione was just regaining her normal breathing when she stood to walk over to Sara. The moment their eyes collided in the mirror, Sara stood suddenly and walked out of the pub without a backwards glance.

"That was odd," Hermione said as she sat back down.

"Very," Harry agreed, his brow furrowing at the other teacher's odd behavior.

"I'm going to try and talk to her on Monday," Hermione said in a low tone. The others were so engrossed, they had no idea what had just gone on.

Harry wanted to tell her to leave it alone, but he had to admit to being a bit curious about her behavior. It had been a week since classes had begun, but she was still nervous around the pair of them. He'd expected younger students to be uneasy around him at first, but not adults. Not for this long.

"You think you can get her to stand still long enough? She seems to positively flee when she sees either of us coming these days."

"If I have to corner her in her own classroom," she replied seriously.

"So, Hermione," Ron called from across the table, "tell us all about the Institute. Was it all cloak and dagger?"

Hermione didn't say anything, which seemed to spur Ron on rather than quiet him. "Come on, tell us. After all, we were all going to _be_ Aurors once upon a time."

"You weren't, Ron," Harry said seriously. "You had your mind set on business from sixth year on. The minute George told you they wanted to open a branch in Hogsmeade, you had a gleam in your eye like I'd never seen before."

Hermione sent a thankful glance towards her husband and listened as their chosen career paths were debated back and forth. In truth, she'd been told not to reveal anything about the Institute to anyone. Maybe it was Moody's paranoia, or maybe that's where he'd learned it. But she'd been sworn to secrecy from the moment she'd arrived. _Merlin_ , she thought, _I haven't even told Harry about it._

"They're right, Ron," Mariah interjected, "after all, it takes a truly gifted salesman to sell fifty galleons worth of practical jokes to a witch who had just stopped in for directions."

"Speaking of directions, Mariah," Ginny took hold of the table's attention with a few taps on her water glass.

"Yes?"

"When exactly are you planning on making an honest man out of my brother, hmmm?"

"What does that have to do with directions?" Draco asked his wife with a smirk. He'd known she was going to try and work her mother's owl into the conversation. But as the evening was growing late, he supposed she'd had to improvise. Didn't stop him from needling her about it, however.

"It does if I say it does, Draco," Ginny favored him with a saccharine smile. "Mariah?" she said, turning toward the other woman, not wanting her to think she was off the hook.

"As soon as I can find the time to start planning a wedding," she answered, leaning in to Ron slightly. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and placed a kiss to her temple.

"Well, Mum owled me the other day..."

"Oh no," Ron groaned and accepted sympathetic glances from the others.

"And," Ginny continued in a slightly louder voice, "she mentioned that she'd be happy to have it at the Burrow. She also happened to mention that George's wife, Felicity, is just starting a party planning business."

"Always subtle, our Mum," Ron laughed. He turned to face Mariah, who had been noticeably quiet.

 _Second thoughts, Angel?_

 _Not a chance, Weasley. You're stuck with me._

 _Thank God._

 _I'm just wondering if this is the time to be planning a wedding, with everything else that..._

 _...that_ could _happen, Mariah. No one knows for sure, not even Renae. So, are you game? Want to take on the Weasley's as a full fledged member of the clan?_

 _From the moment I saw you, Ron_.

"I'll owl her in the morning, Ginny." She didn't even look at Ginny as she said this -- her eyes, and her mind, were too occupied with the blue eyes she'd have the honor of losing herself in for the rest of her life.

Great whoops of delight sounded and glasses were raised to the impending marriage. Mariah accepted offers of help from Ginny and Hermione. Ron received a commiserating back slap from Harry, and an offer of their couch from Draco for when Mariah finally wised up and kicked him out.

Ron, remembering the weddings of three of his older brothers, took Draco's offer to heart.

*^*^*^*^*

Harry sat straight up in bed, confused for a moment as to what had awakened him. He cocked his head to the side, but heard no sound from Jamie's room. Then the pain hit him again and his hand flew to his forehead.

He pulled his hand away, not surprised to see it shaking. Because, for the first time since fourth year, Harry had awakened with pain in his scar.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry sat there, hand to his forehead, completely nonplussed. His shaking fingers touched the raised skin, the source of the ache. What the hell?

Hermione stirred next to him, her voice breaking the eerie quiet of the room. "Harry?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't. Speech seemed to have left him.

"What is it?" She sat up too, tucking one leg beneath her to face him.

"My scar," he said, "it woke me up. It..." He had to say it, even though he didn't want to, "it hurt, Hermione."

He should have known that his wife would react with calm, not hysteria; with reason rather than anxiety. She searched his eyes for a few moments, and then traced her own finger over it. "Was it like before?"

She didn't need to clarify "before"; he knew just what she meant. It didn't matter how many years had passed, neither could forget the blinding agony Voldemort had put him through in the seventh year. It hadn't been until Voldemort's body had been examined that Harry had found out how he'd been able to do it. The dark wizard had cut his own forearm in the same shape as Harry's scar. Dumbledore had surmised that Voldemort had charmed the scar to connect with Harry's when touched.

"No," Harry shook off the past with a toss of his messy black hair. "Not really pain. Not what I felt while I was looking for you. Something in between." Harry placed his arm around Hermione and hugged her close.

"So you don't think..."

"I don't know, Hermione. I'll need to check a few things, talk to Sirius."

"I think I should owl Jason," Hermione rose from the bed and fastened her dressing gown as Harry pulled on a sweatshirt. Modesty wasn't an issue as Faren was off duty today, but self-preservation was. Jamie had taken to grasping at the fine hairs on his chest whenever she could, so he covered up for his own protection.

Harry tried to contain his scowl at the mention of the Auror and nearly managed it.

"What?" she asked puzzled, rummaging through her bedside table drawer for ink.

"He fancies you," Harry growled. When Hermione whipped around to face him, Harry's growl turned to a grin. She looked flabbergasted.

"You're mental," she laughed.

"I'm male, Hermione. And I can sense when another alpha is sniffing after my mate."

Hermione raised a single eyebrow. "Woof."

Harry couldn't help it. Despite the seriousness of the morning, he belted out a laugh, long and loud, and then crossed to gather Hermione into his arms. He was just about to settle his lips on hers when Jamie interrupted. They sighed.

"Will you...?"

"I'll get her." Harry made it to Jamie's crib before common sense overrode the alpha male instinct. He settled his daughter on his shoulder and walked back into the bedroom. He knew it couldn't be Voldemort. He'd made sure of that years ago, but if some other dark force was using the same method to get to him, he wanted to know all that he could. Jamie made a playful grab for his glasses, and he pressed a kiss to her warm cheek. There was more at stake now.

"Erm, Hermione?"

"Yes," she said, already beginning to write.

"Can you have him meet us here after breakfast?"

"Yes," she said quietly, sensing his shift in mood.

While Hermione was writing to Jason, Harry went downstairs and lit a fire. He threw in a pinch of powder and called for Sirius. His godfather took a while to answer, and the wild state of his hair told Harry he'd roused the man from bed.

"This had better be good, Harry," he growled, sounding like the dog he transformed into when the spirit moved him.

"My scar hurt this morning, Sirius," Harry replied without preamble. He waited for this information to register before continuing. "I need you to check the sites. It didn't feel the same as before, but I need to know. And I'm not leaving here to check for myself."

"I'll do it now," he said stiffly and disappeared with a small pop.

Satisfied that Sirius would handle what he couldn't; Harry carried an increasingly fussy Jamie in for her breakfast.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Jason arrived an hour later. Harry and Hermione had both made an attempt to keep themselves occupied, but it hadn't worked. Harry had been staring at the same essay for five minutes and hadn't a clue what the student had written. Hermione had cleaned an already immaculate kitchen while Jamie cooed at her from a baby seat.

The knock on the door stopped both of them. Harry was closer, so he answered, pulling the door open to admit the handsome Auror. He could do with a few of Moody's scars, Harry thought grimly.

"Hermione," Jason breathed, walking past Harry without a glance. Try as he might to keep Hermione from noticing Harry was fairly sure she could see his hackles rise. His suspicions were confirmed when she pointedly raised her eyebrow at him again.

"Thanks for coming so quickly, Jason," she said in greeting. They took their seats, Harry and Hermione on the couch, Jason on the overstuffed chair opposite them.

"What's the emergency?" he asked her, still not meeting Harry's eyes.

Hermione glanced at Harry, her eyes a mixture of concern and comfort.

"I wanted to know if you'd had any indications of dark magic lately," Harry began, deciding to use broad strokes before centering in on the crux of the issue. "Powerful dark magic."

"Is there any other kind?" Jason laughed, but his grin died away when he saw it wasn't reciprocated. "We get reports of dark magic all the time," he said, sobering. "Anything specific you're looking for?"

Harry was kept from answering by Sirius' sudden appearance in the room. Jamie gurgled at the sight of him and the hard lines of his face softened as he took the squealing infant from her mother and pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek.

Jason, Harry noted, had met the sudden appearance in classic dueling stance: up on the balls of his feet with his wand firmly drawn. He'd known too many Aurors to be surprised.

"Who are you?" Sirius growled at the younger man, clearly not happy to find a stranger in the room pointing a wand at him.

"It's okay, Sirius," Hermione soothed, standing to introduce them. "This is Jason Taggett. I met him while I was at the Institute and we asked him over to..."

"Did you check them all?" Harry asked, interrupting Hermione.

"Every last one." Sirius looked tired but relieved. "Wards are still in place, no sign they've even been disturbed."

Harry exhaled. He knew it would have been impossible for Voldemort to return, but having confirmation that his various resting-places were undisturbed made him breathe a little easier.

"So it's true, then," Jason spoke loudly, interrupting the silence. "I'd heard rumors that Voldemort's remains were divided up and buried in an undisclosed number of unplottable areas."

"Yes," Sirius said quietly, "it's true." His tone indicated that the subject was closed. Jason met Sirius' harsh stare for only a moment before averting his eyes. Harry didn't blame him; not even he could last long under that stare.

"But that leaves us with a problem, Harry," Sirius said, taking a seat and cradling a now yawning Jamie in his arms. The growl of his voice never failed to make her sleepy. "Why, after all these years, did your scar start to hurt again?"

Jason's eyes widened and his attention flipped back to Harry. Harry was relieved because if the Auror had continued to stare at his wife for much longer, he'd have had to do the man grievous bodily harm.

The discussion that ensued took nearly an hour. And it got them exactly nowhere. By the time Sirius and Jason Disapparated, they'd decided to retreat into a wait and see mode. Wait and see if it happened again. Wait and see if Jason could find any leads from other Aurors. Hermione wasn't much in the patience department, but there wasn't much Harry could do about that. They'd just have to live with the questions for a while.

"Harry?" Hermione said, turning to face him after laying Jamie down for her morning nap. "We need to talk."

"I know, and we have to find out what's causing..."

"Not about that," she said seriously, but Harry thought he saw a slight upturn to her lips, "about your jealousy."

"Hermione..." Harry said, then trailed off because he had no idea what to say. She knew him too well and would see right through a lie. And he couldn't help it. He was jealous.

She moved closer to him, taking his hand in hers, her face still serious. "What can I do to convince you that there's no reason to be jealous of Jason?"

Harry picked up the underlying meaning in her words and felt a broad grin grow on his face. He pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. "I can think of one or two things..." he said seconds before their lips met.

*^*^*^*^

Mariah found her sitting on the window seat of the tower room, staring out of the window towards the lake below. She could just make out the tear tracks on the other woman's face. Funny business, love. Even the most unworthy managed to capture hearts and imprison them.

Lucky for her, her heart had been imprisoned by Ron. No parole necessary, thanks.

But that didn't make helping someone grieve any easier. Especially when she'd been so instrumental in the death that had robbed Renae of the man she loved.

"You owled?" Mariah asked softly, closing the heavy oak door behind her.

"Something's happening. I saw it this morning. Has she gone away?"

"Yes," Mariah said evenly. Half of her wanted to clamp her hands over her ears and not listen; the other half wanted to know all she could to help her friend. "She was away for a few days this past week. What did you see?"

"The pain of an old ghost. It will bring on the unrest, the unease. It precedes the black shadow."

Mariah had no idea what the pain of an old ghost could mean, but she knew what the black shadow was. It had been the first thing Renae told her when she'd agreed to hide her childhood friend at Hogwarts.

The owl had arrived the night Jamie and Morgan were born -- an urgent plea from Renae. She'd tried to hide herself away, knowing that word of what she was carrying had spread throughout their community. But Mariah's mother had found her within days, and had begun a campaign of harassment; trying desperately to ingratiate herself into Renae's life. Mariah didn't find it at all odd that the woman who had shunned her son for most of his life was now trying to become involved in his child's. That was just the way Allison worked.

Allison wanted her hands on the Triuna Crudus and would do anything in her power to make sure she did.

Mariah supposed that there was enough of her father in her to overlook the chaos Renae had caused over the last year. But whether it was familial instinct or just not wanting Allison to have any influence on her niece, Mariah had agreed to shelter Renae until she was on her feet. Until the baby was born, its identity confirmed and both of them could seek shelter from Kalena.

There were times, like now, when she wished she'd just shooed the owl out of the window and had gone on with her life. But old friendships and the fear of her mother having anything to do with the Triuna Crudus had spurred her to action.

She'd also spent hours wishing that Renae's ability was Tactile, or Persuasion.

"It's getting closer, Ria. They have to be on guard."

"Well, it'd be a hell of lot easier if I could tell them," Mariah snorted. "Honestly, you're getting as bad as Sybill with all her misty portents."

"They can't know that I'm here," Renae said fearfully, "I know you've already told your Bond and there's nothing I can do to remedy that. Unless you Persuade him..."

"Never," Mariah hissed. "I will use this curse to guard your secrets only in extreme situations. But I will not betray Ron that way. I've had to Persuade Hermione once, and by God, Renae, I will not do it again."

"You've never seen things the way we do, have you, Mariah?"

"No, and that's not likely to change. You call it a gift, a power. I call it a curse, and a dangerous one for those that use it without forethought. Which many do Renae. You know that as well as I. And if you want them on guard, you have to let me tell them what you've seen."

Mariah shuddered unconsciously, remembering the trance Renae had gone into not long after she'd arrived in North Tower. She'd gone rigid, her eyes rolled back in her head, spouting premonitions of pain and death.

"Would they believe you?"

Therein lay the rub, Mariah thought. Hermione wouldn't believe a word of it, nor would Harry. She didn't know Ginny and Draco as well, but figured they wouldn't either. Not without proof. And proof was thin on the ground.

"It hasn't changed, Ria. But it's getting clearer. Nothing has happened to alter what I've seen. A blond will die...a blond close to those you love. I've seen you standing over the casket. And there is division behind you. Tension. Hate. Pain. An angry woman, spurned by the man in glasses. She is in the arms of another. I can see her dark hair flowing behind her in the wind at the gravesite. Your Bond comforts another redhead..."

"His name is Ron," Mariah interrupted, not even trying to hide her anger at Renae's refusal to use Ron's name.

"As you wish," Renae said softly, looking abashed. "I fear for your friends, Ria. But until I know more, I can't let you tell them. I can't risk others knowing I'm here, even for them. Kalena has promised sanctuary once the baby is born, but until then, I am vulnerable. Until then, I must remain hidden."

"There's nothing else you can tell me?" she nearly choked on the words, and her own hypocrisy.

Renae's eyes closed, her face a study in serene introspection. "A young girl's pain will herald the point of no return."

Mariah left her soon afterward. She headed straight for Ron, telling herself over and over that Renae had said a young girl, not a baby. Part of her feared that the semantics didn't matter.

Once she reached him and drank in the comfort his arms always gave her, they took Rianne out into the warmth and the light, trying to enjoy whatever calm there was before the proverbial storm

As she watched Ron sleeping with their daughter sprawled on his chest a few hours later, Mariah resolved to stay as close as possible Hermione and to Ginny; prepared to thwart the pain and heartache that Renae had seen. If there was one thing she knew having spent her life around Diviners in general and Knowers specifically, it was that the future was not certain, was not set. She was counting on that.

Almost as if bidden by her thoughts, she heard the combined laugher of her closest friends drift towards her. Sure enough, within moments Harry, Hermione and Jamie and Draco, Ginny and Morgan had joined them.

"Lazy git," Ginny laughed, prodding her brother with a toe. "Probably ate himself into a stupor again."

"Who, exactly, is that supposed to surprise, Gin?" Draco drawled.

"Shut it," Ron muttered, not even opening his eyes.

"Yes, leave him alone, Draco," Hermione grinned as she surveyed what was left of the picnic, "he's digesting."

"You're eating like we did, Ron, at about seven months along. So when are you due?" Ginny teased.

Mariah felt tears prickling her eyes. She didn't want to know the pain that awaited these four people. She wanted to be blissfully ignorant. At the same time, she was grateful she was at least on guard. The paradox was driving her mad.

Relax, angel.

I know, Ron. I'm trying.

If she'd been less preoccupied with her own worries, she would have seen the concern on Harry's and Hermione's faces as well.

^*^*^*^*^*

Journal Entry

I saw my beloved sitting by the lake, surrounded by others. My beloved saw me. Our eyes met over the head of our child...the child that should and will belong to me. My heart beat faster, my breathing labored, the connection our eyes formed built a bridge between us that no one can destroy. I am getting through, I know it. The spell will not endure. Only our love will remain to stand the test of time.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

All things considered, Harry thought as he headed for the staff room, the owl should have arrived with a great deal more fanfare. But it hadn't. The tawny bird had simply fluttered in through the open window, dropped a bit of parchment on Harry's desk and had flown off without a backward glance.

Harry's heart had quickened when he'd recognized Seamus' scratchy handwriting. He'd torn open the envelope and devoured the words.

Harry - sorry it's taken so long to get back to you, but the Muggle police were being a bit more secretive than I'd anticipated. I had to call in a favor to even get these results, and the man that gave them to me grilled me on why I wanted to know. Seems the Dursley fire has been sent to the arson investigators, as there is no known cause. The Muggles can't figure out why the house burned down. I've made a note on the actual report that might interest you. I'm going to go and check the site tomorrow.

The noted remark was still rolling around his head as he pushed open the door to the staff room...fireman states flames seemed resistant to water...

Hermione was sitting with a book in her lap. She wasn't reading it, however. Her attention was directed at the Transfiguration teacher on the other side of the room. Harry nearly laughed as he spent a moment watching his wife watch Sara. That in itself wasn't really funny, but Sara watching Hermione was. Every time Hermione looked away, Sara looked up at her. The humor would be lost on them, though, so he held his tongue.

"Mione," he said softly once he reached her, taking a seat opposite her. "I have to tell you something."

Harry was prevented from saying anything further by the echoing of Minerva's voice from out in the corridor.

"Professor Dumbledore might have put up with your antics, Peeves, but I will not. You're on final warning. One more broken cabinet and you'll be expelled from this castle."

"Didn't do nothing," Peeves snapped back.

Minerva entered the staff room a moment later, shaking her head. Her eyes were still blazing with suppressed anger. She surveyed the room and went over to sit next to Hermione.

"What happened, Minerva?"

"Peeves. He denies it of course, but who else would have broken all the glass in the trophy room?"

Harry had to admit that it sounded like something Peeves would do, but something didn't seem right, though.

"But without provocation, Minerva?" Hermione asked, voicing Harry's thoughts.

"I stopped trying to figure out that poltergeist a long time ago," she sighed. Hermione looked ready to continue the conversation, but Sara chose that moment to dash from the room as though her robes had caught fire.

His wife gave him a fleeting glance before heading after her. Harry noticed Snape take a few steps forward, but then seemed to change his mind and turn back to staring out over the grounds. One of these days, he'd have to do as Draco asked and try to mend the fences with his other nemesis. Staring at the back of the Potions Master's head, but not today, Harry thought. Today, he had other things to handle.

"What's on your mind, Potter?" Minerva asked, correctly interpreting the look on his face.

"Something happened this weekend. Something I think you should know."

*^*^*^*^*^

Out in the corridor, it took Hermione moving at a dead run to catch up with Sara.

  
At first, she'd thought she'd lost the other teacher and was about to return to the staff room. Until she heard the sniffling, that is.

"Sara?" Hermione said, approaching the other woman like she was a bear protecting cubs.

"Please leave me alone, Hermione," she sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Sara, what is it? Can I help?"

"Only if you can turn back the clocks," she muttered, but her voice carried to Hermione nonetheless. "No, Hermione, there's nothing you can do. It's just a few things I have to handle on my own. I'm fine, really."

Sara straightened and walked away, her head held high, leaving Hermione feeling even more puzzled. There was something wrong, that was definite, but at the moment, she just didn't have the stamina to puzzle it out. Not with so many other things occupying her mind.

Later, she would wonder why she hadn't put it all together then.

^*^*^*^*^

That afternoon, a warm breeze caressed the Hogwarts grounds, almost as if in a final farewell before the chilling winter winds struck in full measure. Harry and Hermione took their time walking home, wanting to savor as much of it as they could. They'd just reached the top of the hill in front of the lake when they heard a very familiar squeak.

Faren was sitting near the lake's edge on a blanket. She was talking with a group of Harry's seventh year students. Most of them were skipping stones across the surface of the lake and watching the giant squid bat them back, but Annika was sitting on the blanket with a gurgling Jamie wrapped in her arms. She and Faren were in deep conversation.

The arrival of the two professors cut short any further fun for the students, so they made their departure rather hastily. Annika lingered for a moment, though, after passing the baby to Harry.

"I hope you figure it out, Faren," she said kindly, placing her hand on the other girl's arm and walking off with a casual hello to her teachers.

"Figure what out, Faren?" Hermione asked as Harry swung his now gurgling daughter up over his head to her great joy.

"It's nothing, Hermione, really," the younger witch said softly, still stumbling slightly over using her employer's first name.

Hermione answered that comment with a raised eyebrow and an expression that left no room for evasions.

"Well, I've been staying in one of Madam Rosmerta's spare rooms, as you know, and it's..." she paused, looking decidedly uneasy, "well, it gets loud at night..."

"And you're having trouble sleeping?" Harry finished for her. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Harry answered before she could. "The circles under your eyes are getting deeper, Faren."

Harry and Hermione had a brief conversation with their eyes. Hermione nodded and looked back towards her nanny. "We told you when you first started that we didn't need you to live in..."

"I could never ask that of you, Hermione."

"I wasn't going to suggest it," she smiled. "But I know Ron and Mariah have an empty flat over their shop as well. As he closes at nine, you might find it a bit quieter there."

"But it wasn't on the rental listing I saw," Faren protested.

"I don't think they've ever thought of letting it out, if truth be told," Harry commented. "Look, why don't we just head over there and ask them," Harry said before Faren could protest again.

It took less time than Harry thought it would. Ron and Mariah had agreed instantly to Faren's staying there. Ron, at least, looked delighted at Faren's offer of babysitting when she wasn't working at the Potters. Within the hour, Faren and Harry had transferred her belongings from Rosmerta's flat to Ron's.

"How'd it go?" Hermione asked when he returned home. Jamie had demanded her dinner quite loudly when they'd arrived at Weasley's and she had gone home to feed her.

"Hardly any heavy lifting," Harry grinned, kissing both of his girls. "She doesn't have much. Clothes, a few books. One of them looked right up your street," he grinned at his wife, "old leather cover and such. But she snatched it out of my hand." Harry's brow furrowed as he remembered the nearly manic look on her face when she'd seen him holding it. He continued before Hermione noticed his frown. "She's clearly thrilled with the prospect of an uninterrupted night's sleep, though. She smiled the whole time we worked."

Harry wanted to frown again, but kept his face impassive since Hermione was looking at him. There had been something odd about Faren's smile. It hadn't quite reached her eyes.

*^*^*^*^

Once Hermione and Jamie were settled in for a bit of mother-daughter bonding (which meant the pair of them were napping on the couch), Harry jotted a quick note informing Hermione that he'd gone on a walk and headed towards Draco's.

Hermione was convinced that Jason was looking into any dark activity and would find out if there was any threat connected to Harry. Minerva was doing her own bit of investigation and contacting Dumbledore. And Sirius had checked every last remaining resting place of Voldemort's remains to find them undisturbed.

But the words in Seamus' letter haunted him. And the memory of his scar hurting worried him. He had told Hermione of the latter, but had yet to tell her about the former. Minerva's scene with Peeves and Hermione's abrupt departure after Sara had taken his opportunity. Then he'd been busy getting his nanny settled. Come to think of it, he still didn't know what had happened between Sara and Hermione. It looked like he and his wife had a bit of talking to do later.

Now, however, he had more important things at hand. Now he had to ask a friend for a rather large favor.

Draco answered the door with his hair mussed and his robe on inside out. Harry bit back a laugh.

"Your timing sucks, Potter."

"Then why'd you answer the door?" Harry quipped.

Draco looked confused for a moment then smiled himself. "It's a bit early for that, Harry. I was just bathing Morgan. He decided Dad ought to join in."

"Jamie does that as well. She's not happy unless all of us are drenched."

They shared an odd moment, standing in the doorway of Draco's relatively modest house and talking about their children. Neither of them voiced it, but both were thinking the same thing. They'd come a long way.

"I need to talk to you," Harry said, dropping his voice. He shook his head when Draco opened the door further for him. "Not here."

Draco gave him one long, searching look before nodding briefly. "Give me five minutes."

Harry waited outside, not wanting Ginny to see him here. Ginny would tell Hermione. Hermione would want to know what was so important that he had to meet Draco in private. So would Ginny for that matter. On a need to know basis, Harry decided neither of them needed to know.

It was nearly ten minutes later when they set out down the high street towards the Three Broomsticks. Draco mentioned to Harry that he'd told Ginny he needed to see Rosmerta about something for work. As Morgan had been diving into his dinner, she'd merely smiled and told him to bring something back for them to eat. Between writing her column and the steady influx of owls from her mother and George's wife about the wedding plans, she hadn't had a moment to get anything prepared.

It was an odd thing, Harry supposed, going to such a public place for a bit of privacy. But they both knew that the noise of the bar would cover their voices. Draco placed a dinner order with Rosmerta and joined Harry at the back table he'd chosen. A mug of Butterbeer awaited Draco; Harry stuck with tea.

"Do you miss it?" Draco asked honestly, then furrowed his brow. "Does it bother you, being here? We can go somewhere..."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Malfoy," Harry smiled. "I don't have constant cravings for alcohol. I just know I can't handle it." Harry shrugged. It was true he didn't think about it all the time, but just now, he felt he could have done with a quick shot of Ogden's in his tea. He had even opened his mouth to ask for one, but the look on Rosmerta's face stopped him.

"So what's so important you had to drag me away from my family and left yours home alone?"

Harry spent ten minutes filling Draco in on everything from his scar to the letter from Seamus. The other man didn't interrupt, but let Harry talk. His tea was stone cold by the time he finished, but he drank it anyway.

Draco sat in silence for a moment after he'd finished. He opened his mouth twice, closing it again before saying anything. "So you think..." he trailed off, looking pensive again. "You think your aunt, uncle and cousin were murdered. By a wizard."

"Yes," he said softly. "Do you know anyone else that could make a water resistant fire?"

"Well, I don't know much about Muggle things, but wouldn't an electrical fire be hard to put out? I've heard things like that at the Ministry."

"The fireman didn't say it was hard to put out, Draco. He said it was resistant to water."

"Settle down," Draco muttered as a couple at a nearby table glanced in their direction. "I'm assuming you want me to do something about this, or you wouldn't have brought it up."

"I want you to go with Seamus tomorrow when he checks the site of the fire."

"I know we're friends now and all," Draco grimaced, "but do I have to start hanging out with all the other Gryffindors on top of that?"

"I'm not asking you to have him over to tea, Malfoy. I just want your eyes there along with his. I've heard about what you do for the Ministry. I know you'll see what he won't. Or can't."

"I think there was a compliment in there somewhere."

"Believe it," Harry affirmed. "But there's something else I want you to do as well." And this wasn't going to be nearly as easy, Harry thought.

"I knew all this buttering up was leading somewhere."

"I want you to contact anyone you can from the days before Voldemort fell."

Draco looked as though Harry had swung a Beater's club into his midsection.

"I can't, Harry," he said, his voice carrying none of its usual arrogance. "I..." Draco stopped as the door to the bar swung open. Severus Snape stood there, scanning the various patrons as if looking for someone. Harry was completely thrown off track at the sight of him. He was wearing his usual black robes, but a hunter green turtleneck was just visible under the neckline.

"I didn't think the man knew color actually existed," Harry said in amazement. Then his jaw dropped as he saw Draco motion the man towards them. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you as best I can," Draco explained.

"Draco," Snape said as he reached the table, "Potter."

"Snape," Harry answered in the same blank tone his old professor had used.

Draco merely rolled his eyes and motioned for him to join them. Snape glanced at the door, then his watch, then snagged a chair from a nearby table and sat.

"We don't mean to keep you from anything," Harry said.

"You're not, Potter," Snape said briskly.

"Severus, Harry's got a problem..."

Harry almost laughed at the look on Snape's face. Their eyes met and they shared a moment. It wasn't the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but it wasn't outright hostility either. He supposed that was something.

"I'm aware of Potter's problem," Snape said softly. "Minerva informed me earlier. I've begun a little research of my own, but so far I haven't even been able to come up with anyone from those days still alive or in any condition to talk."

"Which is why I thought maybe Draco...?"

"No." Both Draco and Snape hissed the word at the same time.

"Harry, you don't understand a lot about the community I shunned when I left England. You know parts of the story, but not all of it. You weren't exactly up on current affairs when I left, you know?"

"There was a mark put on Draco's head," Snape informed Harry. "That's one of the reasons I encouraged him to leave. There weren't many that would have been capable of murder, but I didn't want him taking any unnecessary risks."

"But those men and women, by your own account, Snape, aren't in any condition to be a threat now."

"Their children would be," Snape said. "And as you might know, children often harbor grudges on their parents' behalf for quite some time."

"And I'm still the dark side's poster boy for treason. Right below Severus. And while the Aurors haven't heard anything pertaining to threats on me, I'm not about to go stirring up the pot by asking questions. I have too much at risk now."

Harry remembered the feeling he'd had that morning as he'd carried Jamie from her room. He nodded to Draco. "I understand. And I didn't realize. I'm sorry for even asking."

"Potter, are you absolutely sure the pain in your scar has to do with something recent?"

Harry's eyes snapped back to Snape, who was regarding him with an almost kind expression. It wasn't filled with its usual malice, at any rate.

"What I mean is, Voldemort's curses were very strong. He was an exceptionally powerful wizard." Snape's right hand reached over to grasp his left forearm. "Sometimes, his marks still burn."

"You mean...?" Harry gasped.

"Yes, Potter. I don't know whether it's the force with which he burned it into us, or if it's just my own memory, but the mark still bothers me at times."

Harry marveled slightly at Snape's use of the word "us". He wasn't quite sure how he felt having something in common with the man. Harry didn't know what felt odder: being comforted by Snape or...no, that was the oddest feeling of his life, nothing could top it. And he did feel comforted. Could it be that the pain he'd felt that morning was nothing more than a memory? It was true that certain events from his own time as a Hogwarts student had been on his mind a lot lately. It was feasible that those memories triggered a remembered pain. Feeling more at ease than he had in days, Harry looked up at his old nemeses -- both of them. He smiled at the one he now called friend. Maybe someday he'd be able to do the same to Snape.

But Snape wasn't looking at him. Snape had turned in his chair and was now staring at the entrance to the bar, the door having just swung shut.

"Excuse me," he said gruffly and swept from their table without another word.

"So, you'll meet with Seamus tomorrow then?" Harry asked, pushing aside the scene with Snape until he could analyze it further.

"I will. And I'll owl you before I even leave the site of the fire."

Harry and Draco parted soon after, both checking their watches and realizing that two witches were probably wondering where the hell they'd gotten to. "Probably think we're up to something untoward," drawled Draco as they reached the fork that would lead Harry towards his house and Draco towards his.

"Untoward?" Harry stopped and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh come off it, Harry. Don't pretend you never heard the rumors. Didn't you notice the sly looks being shot in our direction when we walked in there together?"

Harry goggled at Draco, his chin hitting his chest, realizing what he was inferring. "You're mad," he said.

"Nope. Heard a few of them with my own ears. Apparently, there are some in our world that think I went off for all those years to nurse a broken heart and that you spent those years pissed for the same reason."

"You...and me..?" Harry said with soft wonder. He moved closer to Draco, whose eyes widened with every step Harry took. "I'd never thought..."

"Potter, what the hell are you doing?" Draco asked with a kind of quiet alarm.

"What is that cologne you're wearing? It's intoxicating."

Their eyes met across the scant inches that separated them. The corners of Harry's mouth twitched. Draco shoved at his chest and scowled as Harry bent double in fits of laughter. "The look on your face," Harry said as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

Draco simply stood there and waited for Harry to regain his composure. "Having fun?" he said, trying to remain angry in the face of Harry's mirth. It wasn't working, and he could feel a smile tugging at his own mouth.

"Yeah," he said, wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks. "I needed that."

Draco smiled back, glad to see Harry taking the events of his week in stride. He hated to admit watching his friend for signs that he was cracking under the mounting pressure. He was relieved to see not a single fissure. He wanted to ask if talking to Severus had made him feel that much better, but he didn't think that was the way to go. Better to let those two work on things by themselves. But to see Harry laughing after seeing him so dour gave him hope that the other wizard was beginning to deal with life's stresses as others did. He couldn't wait to tell Ginny.

And if relieving stress meant fielding aspersions on his sexual orientation, he could handle that.

"Just so you know," Harry said once he'd recovered, "I'm planning on telling Hermione we were making plans for Ron's bachelor party. Don't look at me like that," he interrupted before Draco could speak, "we are going to have one and you are going to be there. Anyway, I figure if we tell them that, it'll keep them from asking questions."

"Hermione and Ginny?"

"You're right," Harry sighed, "nothing will keep those two from nosing about, but it might make them ask fewer questions."

Draco grinned as he walked back towards his house. He was planning on giving Ginny just enough false information to drive her insane with curiosity while insisting to his face that she didn't want to know.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Jamie lay sleeping between her parents, blissfully unaware of the tense conversation taking place around her. Despite Harry's best efforts, Hermione had seen straight through the "bachelor party" story as if it were made of the thinnest gossamer veil. She'd met him at the door with a kiss to the cheek and asked if he'd walked to London since he'd been gone so long. He hadn't gotten through half of his prepared remarks before she'd raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms in her best I'm-not-buying-this stance.

Harry had sighed.

By the time he'd finished telling her about the owl from Seamus, Draco's reaction and the odd conversation with Snape, they were in bed with Jamie, who'd awakened twenty minutes previously, fussy and trying to stick her fist down her throat.

Hermione had performed a soothing charm on the baby's gums, having been assured by Mariah earlier that week that the infant showed all the signs of incoming teeth. It worked somewhat, but had to be performed every hour or so. No sleep for them tonight, Harry thought.

"What do you think it means, Harry?" Hermione asked in a whisper. "Do you think it's related to your scar?"

"I don't know, love, but after talking to Snape, I doubt it. I think it's just what he said it was. A memory."

"Well, that would go with what Jason told me earlier."

"When did you talk to Jason?" Harry could no more keep the rancor from his voice than he could stop the march of time.

"He stopped by while you were off with Draco," Hermione said evenly, either missing or ignoring his tone. "He said there is nothing unusual going on anywhere near here. At least nothing to indicate that the pain in your scar has anything to do with the remnants of Voldemort's supporters."

Harry scowled as her eyes brightened. "And I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you! Jason told me something else. My counter had its first test in the field. An Auror in Bath used it successfully yesterday. He's alive and well and the three men who tried to kill him are in Azkaban."

"That's wonderful, Mione," Harry said truthfully, pride in his wife's accomplishments filling him, leaving no room for the shadow of jealousy Jason's name had caused. Without thinking, he reached for her and pulled her close. Jamie stirred and began to fret once again.

"Whoops," Harry sighed, cuddling his daughter onto his shoulder as Hermione cast the charm. Her wand grazed over Jamie's tender gums and the baby's wails slowly softened into whimpers.

Once Jamie was soothed back into sleep, Hermione transferred her to the bedside bassinet left over from when she was a newborn and Harry tucked Hermione into the curve of his arm. Content for the moment that everything that could be done was being done, they settled in for as much sleep as they could scratch out between turns soothing Jamie.

*^*^*^*^*^

Across the village, Mariah wasn't sleeping nearly as well. Rianne had successfully cut three teeth ages ago and was sleeping peacefully. Ron, being Ron, was sleeping like the dead next to her. But Mariah was tossing and turning, caught in the throes of a vivid nightmare.

"Mia," the soft voice beckoned through the mist. "Mia, follow me."

"Daddy?" Mariah called, for he was the only person that ever called her Mia. Her friends had all called her Ria; her mother had used Mariah. Her father had wanted something unique...just for them.

"Mia, hurry," he called, "time's running out."

Mariah searched through the clouds of vapor surrounding her until she found him standing alone, arms outstretched.

"Daddy, are you hurt?" she asked frantically, stepping into the comfort of his arms. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mia. But your friends aren't. They're in trouble. And you need to help them."

"I'm trying, Daddy. I'm doing everything I can."

"Are you?"

"Of course I am," she said defensively.

"Do you know what the strongest organ in the human body is?"

Puzzled, Mariah shook her head.

"It's the brain, Mariah. Because it's capable of locking secrets within itself that none but the most powerful keys can access. Your friend Jane proved that."

"Why are you telling me this, Daddy?"

"Because you need to find the key, Mariah. Even if you don't want to."

Mariah jerked back to consciousness as though she'd been shot. Ron rolled to face her and draped his arm across her midriff in the process. She cuddled into his arms and set about forgetting everything her father had told her. She was doing everything she could. Anything else was unthinkable.

***

Three days later, Hermione spent her free period stretched out on the staff room sofa, enjoying the peace of the empty room. She was just drifting off for a bit of make up sleep when the bell signaling the end of classes blared through the room. But try as she might, she couldn't find the energy to get up.

"Hermione?" The voice addressing her wasn't timid, but neither was it steady. Hermione cracked one eye open and saw Sara standing over her. Behind Sara, she could see the room slowly filling with the other teachers. Knowing Harry would be along any moment, Hermione struggled to a sitting position. If her husband saw her napping, he'd stop waking her when Jamie fussed so that she could sleep.

"Hi, Sara," Hermione yawned.

"Is everything all right?" the older woman asked, concern furrowing her forehead.

Hermione smiled while suppressing another yawn. "Everything's fine, or it will be when Jamie finally cuts the tooth. It would be better if she would sleep longer than ninety minutes at a time. I was just trying to catch a quick nap."

"Isn't there anything you can do?"

"There are charms, medicines. We've tried them all. And either they're not working or we've spoiled her so completely she won't accept them." A wry smile crooked her mouth, positive that the latter was at least partially true. But that was neither here nor there. If they didn't find something that worked soon, they were going to go quietly insane on loss of sleep. Hermione didn't even remember the baby's first nights being this sleepless.

"I'm sure it will pass soon," Sara said with a slight smile before walking away. Harry was walking up as she took her leave, and Hermione could have sworn the other woman actually greeted him this time.

Well, it's taken her long enough to get over the shyness, Hermione thought. Harry joined her on the sofa and it was all she could do not to cuddle into his side and drop off to sleep again. The litany she'd been reciting for days was drumming through an overtired brain. Tonight, she'll sleep...tonight...tonight...

"Did you talk to Finelius?" Hermione asked, lowering her voice, wondering if the Charms professor had been able to shed any light on the situation.

"Yes," Harry sighed, "and he said he couldn't be sure. There's no real way to tell that the purple residue Draco found at the site is an echo of flame enhancement charm."

Hermione watched as Snape crossed the room towards them, wondering at the look on the Potions master's face. It took a while to register that the man was smiling at her. Not a sneer, not a glare. A real smile.

"Potter," Snape said curtly when he reached them.

"Snape," Harry greeted back.

"Any more discomfort?" Snape said softly.

"No, I think you were right about that. It hasn't even twitched since the morning it happened."

Snape nodded curtly and left them, robes billowing in his wake.

"I don't know if I can get used to that," Hermione said, watching his retreating back. "Think we'll have to start calling him Severus?"

"I doubt it. Some habits are just too hard to break. And it's familiar now, using our last names. Kind of like that Muggle television show you told me about."

"Well, if you end up like those two did, cuddled on a bed in a motel room, we'll have more problems than just an aching scar."

Hermione laughed at the look of horror on Harry's face then raised her hand to stifle a yawn. "Don't even go there, Potter," she said warningly, interpreting the shift in his expression.

"What?" he said, feigning innocence.

"I'm no more tired than you are. And you can forget any plans you were making to put a deafening charm on me so I can't hear Jamie's crying."

"I was thinking no such thing," Harry said, lying through his teeth. Sometimes, he thought, it wasn't so great having a wife that could read you so well.

They left the staff room not much later, headed for their afternoon classes, both trying to figure out how best to ensure the other's sleep.

*^*^*^*^*^*

Harry was just dismissing his seventh years when he saw Snape at the threshold of his classroom.

"Professor?" Annika asked, text book open in front of her, "can I ask you something about Dr. Longbottom's counter?" Two of her friends remained with her and they continued what looked like an ongoing discussion of the matter.

"Just a moment," Harry said, walking over to join the Potions master at the door. Snape looked like he'd just bitten into a lemon.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to the phrase 'Dr. Longbottom'," Snape said in a tone somewhere between amusement and disgust.

"A common problem among we that knew him at school," Harry said, feeling yet another odd but increasingly familiar sense of camaraderie. "What brings you by?"

"This," Snape said curtly, pushing a bottle into his hands. "I heard your child is keeping you up with pain in her gums. It's a numbing solution."

"I tried suggesting that, Snape, and my mother-in-law suggested the Muggle version. Hermione's afraid it will go down Jamie's throat and numb that too."

"This one won't," Snape assured him, "it has a touch of willow sap in it for adhesion. If she's worried, have her try it on her own gums." Snape lowered his voice in deference to the students still in the classroom. "And about the other. I've heard from an old associate. I don't believe you have anything to worry about from that quarter. There isn't enough cohesion in that group to organize afternoon tea, much less a threat against you and your family."

Harry's eyebrows shot into his bangs at this, but Snape raised a hand. "I've already sent this information to the Auror Hermione knows so he can keep an eye on them."

"Thank you, Sev--," Harry tried awkwardly. Snape held up a hand.

"Let's stick with what we know, Potter."

"Agreed." Harry smiled, Snape reciprocated, and Harry thought lost souls were probably sledding in Hell right about now.

With a slight laugh, Harry headed over to his students and the debate that had been silently raging as he'd spoken with Snape. His hand flew to his forehead when he felt something there. He smoothed a finger over the scar, realizing what he'd felt. It hadn't been pain. It had been more like a caress.

"Professor?" Daniel asked. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he said to all three of his students. "Just a bit of a headache."

*^*^*^*^*^

"And Felicity sent over these fabric samples for the maid of honor and bridesmaids dresses," Ginny said, draping a few swatches in front of Mariah. But the other witch wasn't paying her any attention. Her eyes were fixed on some point over Ginny's shoulder. "But I prefer the black leather bustier, personally."

"Whatever you think, Gin," came the vacant response.

It was the third time in twenty minutes that Mariah had said that and Ginny'd had enough. She disentangled herself from the pile of wedding plans George's wife had put together and crossed to sit beside Mariah on the couch.

"I know this is my brother you're marrying, love, but if you're having second thoughts, now is the time to tell me."

Mariah didn't respond. Ginny looked into the other woman's face and recognized the look. She was talking to Ron downstairs with her mind. It was a little disconcerting, but at the same time, she envied her brother this connection. She laid a hand gently on Mariah's shoulder to get her attention and she saw Mariah jerk suddenly.

"I'm so sorry, Gin," Mariah said, flushing slightly.

"No apologies necessary. My brother can talk the leg off an iron pot; I'm assuming it's no different with his mind than with his mouth. But at least now I know you weren't ignoring me because you're having second thoughts."

"Ginny," Mariah said softly, "of all the things in my life, the one I am most sure of is my desire to marry your brother."

Ginny wasn't surprised to feel tears in her eyes at this statement, but was a little stunned by the moisture in Mariah's. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, Gin. Now, you were showing me samples, right? And no, leather bustiers are out, unless the wizards wear them too."

Ginny was still giggling at the thought of Harry, Draco and Ron trussed up in leather as she reached for the fabric samples. She jerked her hand back when she felt it slice on a spare piece of parchment.

"Are you all right?" Mariah asked.

"Paper cut," Ginny said, shaking her hand. But when she went to examine it, she found no trace of blood or of a cut. The sting was gone, too. "Or not," she grinned, feeling foolish for her exaggeration. She hadn't cut herself at all.

"Onto fabrics, then" Mariah said with a note of alarm in her voice. But as they steadily made their way through the various shades and patterns, Ginny forgot all about the incident with the paper cut.

Mariah had even more trouble than ever sleeping that night.

*^*^*^*^*^

As Mariah tossed and turned, fighting her dreams once again, Harry and Hermione were standing over their baby's crib, a bottle of a clear, thick potion in Harry's hand.

"What did Snape say it was again?"

"A numbing gel."

It was midnight and Jamie had been sleeping peacefully for three straight hours. They'd come into her room in a burst of new parent panic, thinking that the baby might be hurt since she wasn't crying when she was supposed to.

But Jamie was fine, sleeping on her side, stuffed animals littering her crib but a small black dog right near her hands.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Harry," Hermione whispered as Harry led her from the room, "but I'd like to kiss Snape right now."

"So would I, love, so would I. But as he's not here and you are," he grinned, pulling Hermione into his arms, "I guess I'll have to make do."

^*^*^*^*^*^*

The note was on the mat inside their front door when they came downstairs the next morning. They were both nearly giddy with a full night's sleep behind them and a new tooth for Jamie. Harry picked the note up and took it into the kitchen. Faren was already there, preparing a breakfast that smelled like heaven.

"Faren, did you drop this?" Harry asked since there was no name on the parchment.

"Drop what?" she asked, turning to face him. Harry thought he saw a moment's panic on her face before it went blank.

He showed her the envelope. "It was on the entrance mat when we came downstairs."

"It wasn't there when I arrived, Harry." Jamie began squealing at the sight of her nanny, and Hermione passed the baby over before she wriggled right out of her grasp.

"You know you don't need to make us breakfast every morning, Faren," Hermione said, helping herself to coffee and fielding an elbow to the ribs from Harry.

"I love to cook, Hermione, and I rarely get the chance anymore."

Harry was about to comment about how grateful he was that she did when the words on the parchment before him registered. "What the...?"

Hermione glanced over to Harry and took the proffered note. She soon wore the same puzzled expression as her husband.

It was written in block letters. At first, Harry wondered why it looked so strange and then he realized it. The note was written on Muggle stationery...with an ink pen.

Beloved. I cannot contain my joy at being so near to you. I know our time is approaching, I know you are slowly regaining freedom from the spell that has held you captive for far too long. Your scent when we're close enchants me, and I swear our hearts beat in unison when we're together.

Until we are free to be together, I remain yours always.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other over the breakfast table as Faren cooed to Jamie near the sink.

"Looks like you've got an admirer, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"And I know exactly who it is," Harry said blankly.


	4. Chapter 4

"And I know exactly who it is," Harry said blankly, scanning the note one last time.

 __

 _CRASH_

Both Harry and Hermione jumped at the sound of china breaking behind them. They spun around towards Faren, who was standing at the sink with a look of horror on her face. She was clutching a now howling Jamie tightly in her arms.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, looking at her employers and trying to calm the growing wails of the baby. "Jamie was squirming, trying to get at the sausages. The plate slipped from my hand."

Hermione rose and stepped over the mountain of eggs, sausages and broken china to take the baby. Jamie was beginning to recover, her wails now shortening into a vague, occasional whimper. "It's okay, Faren," Hermione said kindly to the girl, trying to put her at ease. "Better to drop the plate than the baby."

Her humor was lost on Faren, however. The nanny's jaw dropped in horror before she ran from the room, hand over her mouth. Harry went after her, his eyes pausing to reassure Hermione that _he_ thought it was funny. He found Faren by the front door, struggling with her cloak. Her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't fit the fastenings together. Harry took her hands and stilled her fingers.

"What's all this?" Harry said softly, removing the cloak from her shoulders and hanging it back up on its peg. Faren kept her eyes to the ground, but Harry was having none of that. He took her chin in his hand and raised her head so their eyes met.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I should never have tried to take that plate full of food while holding Jamie. But she's usually so calm...she never reaches for things like that...what you must think of me...."

Harry let her run on until she had completely finished lambasting herself. He knew enough of witches to know not to interrupt one while she was on a roll. Once she had calmed a bit, he put his hand on her shoulder, and was quite surprised when she wrapped both of her arms around him in a fierce hug. Harry patted her awkwardly on the back. He'd never grown adept at handling female emotional outbursts. _Except Hermione's,_ he thought with a chuckle.

Faren seemed to suddenly realize just exactly who she was holding so tightly, and blushing furiously, pulled her arms away from him. Hermione walked up behind them, looking like she'd been berating herself almost as much as Faren had. "Faren, I'm so sorry. That was a horrid thing to say, sometimes I just don't think before I speak. Too much of Ron's influence, I expect."

Faren raised her tear-filled eyes to Hermione, but didn't move to embrace her as she had Harry. This rather surprised him, but he supposed that she was mortified enough at having lost control in front of him and didn't want to show the same weakness to Hermione. One thing he knew about his nanny, she was a very proud young lady. And after the way she'd cared for him while Hermione was gone, Harry thought she probably felt more at ease around him than she did around his wife.

"I know you'd never do anything to endanger Jamie, Faren," Hermione said, laying her hand on Faren's arm. The younger girl gripped Hermione's hand in return, and they shared a teary smile. Harry could almost smell the impending emotional flood approaching. He was a bit surprised, as Hermione wasn't usually so quick to tears, but he put it down to the very few hours of sleep she'd been getting lately.

His daughter, completely over the shock of the shattering dish, was looking from her mother to her nanny. Almost as if she could smell it too, she began to screw up her face with her own imminent flood. _Witch solidarity gone too far,_ he thought. Not being able to stand the sound of his daughter's distress, Harry took her from Hermione.

"How about we see what kind of damage that new tooth can do to a bit of toast, eh, love?" he said loudly, trying to overpower the sounds of their sniffles. "And later, we'll ask Faren to take you to see your cousin Morgan. You have some gloating to do, young lady. He may have been born a few hours before you, but you beat him to the first tooth."

Hermione and Faren seemed to return to their normal selves at Harry's words and so, with a few more watery words of apology, the Potters and their nanny headed back to the kitchen for their breakfast.

The atmosphere was still subdued as Hermione magicked the mess off the floor, and Faren threw together another breakfast. The tension finally broke as they watched Jamie attempt to chew her toast around the new tooth. She wasn't terribly pleased at the prospect and kept trying to brush it out of the way.

Hermione twitched suddenly, pulling Harry's attention away from their daughter. For a second, he thought he saw tears in her eyes, but she blinked and her eyes were clear again. He'd caught her doing that a few times this morning, as well as the day before. His exhaustion had kept him from inquiring earlier, but today he wanted to get to the bottom of what was causing her sudden tendency to tears.

"Better get used to it, Jamie girl," Faren grinned as she took the baby from her infant seat and carried her out of the room to dress her. "There'll be more there before you know it."

"Hermione," Harry said quietly once Faren had left, "is everything okay?"

"Of course it is," Hermione said. A bit too quickly, he thought. There was something in her face that had him wanting to press further. The fact that she was biting her lip again made him want to grab her by the shoulders and demand she tell him what was wrong. But there was something else. A plea. Silent though it was, the plea was there in her eyes. _Don't ask me again. Not now._ Respecting her wishes, Harry beat down the Neanderthal urges and let her change the subject, reserving the right to try again later.

"Do you really know who this is from?" she asked, picking up the paper again.

"I've got a pretty good idea, love," Harry said cryptically, garnering a raised eyebrow from Hermione. Perhaps he was being a bit childish, but if she wanted to keep her secrets, he was going to keep his, too. When he realized that he was acting just a bit less mature than his not nearly-dearly departed cousin at his finest, Harry relented a little. "I'll tell you later after I check it out, okay?" he placated.

Hermione started to question him, but Harry made a show of checking his watch. She waved him off with a furrowed brow and a shake of her bushy head. Harry was suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss the spot right between those drawn together brows. He did just that, startling a laugh out of his wife before she pushed him away.

"Go, you git," she grinned, "or you'll be late."

He'd nearly made it out of the door when Faren's voice stopped him. Jamie was dressed in a pale pink romper for the day and was waving her arms frantically at her father. "We wanted to kiss our Daddy goodbye," she smiled, passing the baby over to him for a quick goodbye peck.

Moments later, Harry was walking down the high street ready to confront the man who currently occupied the top of his Most Likely Note Sender list. He knew he could have told Hermione who he suspected, but not without going into details. Remembering what she'd done the last time she'd spoken about any latent desires between himself and Draco Malfoy, Harry rather wanted to wait until bedtime that night.

Harry had to wait a good few minutes for one of the Malfoys to open their front door, and when they did, he had a difficult time reigning in his smile. Both looked as though they hadn't slept the night before...and not for the usual reasons.

"Morgan cutting teeth, too?"

"Yes," Ginny said around a very large yawn, "that soothing charm in the book Hermione told me about is pure rubbish and us without an ounce of willow sap for the teething gel. Trust my brother to get the most easygoing child in the wizarding world. According to them, Rianne never even fussed. Slimy git." A child's cry sounded from upstairs and Ginny sighed. "His majesty awakes...again."

"What's up, Harry?" Draco said once Ginny had gone after Morgan.

"I just wanted to thank you personally for the little love note you delivered this morning," Harry grinned. But his grin faded a bit at Draco's look of incomprehension. "This," Harry said, a bit more forcefully, pushing the bit of paper towards Draco.

Draco took the paper and read it quickly before handing it back. "What makes you think this is from me? Or are you overestimating your appeal again, Potter?"

"Well, the first clue was the whole scent thing. You're trying to get me back for the stunt I pulled last night." Harry didn't like the desperate note in his voice, but with each passing moment he realized that he was dead wrong about the note originating from Draco Malfoy.

"Harry," Draco yawned, "think about it. This is written on Muggle paper, with a Muggle ink pen. Of all the people you know, I would think I'm the least likely to even know how to operate, much less own, one. Second, I've been trying to coax the demon child into fifteen seconds of silence since I arrived home last night. I wouldn't have had the time."

"Besides," he went on, "this looks like it was written more for a witch than a wizard."

"What makes you think that?" Harry asked, his inner alpha male kicking to life again.

"Look at the words, Harry. All that flowery rubbish...definitely sounds like a wizard itching to get into a witch's knickers to me."

"Such a romantic, Draco," Harry said sarcastically. Morgan's cries of pain echoed towards them from the kitchen, along with Ginny's harried voice telling her husband to stop bullshitting with Harry and come help her.

"And there's the object of those romantic desires now," Draco said, clearly trying to stifle a smile as Ginny began to weave a verbal tapestry of curses, many of which were geared towards vital portions of his anatomy. "My shrinking violet beckons."

Harry turned from the Malfoys' house, chuckling softly at the perfect match those two made. His good humor didn't last for long, though. Draco's words about the note being sent by a wizard to a witch kept echoing in his head. And as much as he tried to convince himself that the note might have been meant for Faren, Harry couldn't push aside the notion that the note was meant for his wife.

Hermione, however, thought that was about as likely as the note being for Madam Pince.

"Harry," she whispered, laying Jamie in her crib later that night, "you've got to get over this notion that there's some wizard following my every move, just waiting for the opportunity to...to...it's just ridiculous. I mean, you're the one that all the witches swoon over. I'm just bushy haired, big toothed, know-it-all Hermione. Who would be obsessed with me?"

"Well, I am. Does that count?" Harry drawled rhetorically from behind her, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her towards him. She fit herself into the curve of his body back to front as they stood whispering over Jamie's crib. Hermione sighed as Harry began to place feather light kisses where her neck met her shoulder.

Hermione turned in his arms and laced her fingers behind his neck. "Lucky me," she said softly, sounding just a little sad. But she rose onto her toes to kiss him properly. The kiss turned from teasing to tantalizing in the swish of a wand. As their kisses grew hungrier, they maneuvered themselves to the bedroom and Harry pinned her beneath him on the bed, his hands fisted in her hair. He pulled his mouth from hers and stared down into her deep brown eyes. He saw something there that frightened him beyond all reason.

For the first time since seventh year, he saw something that could have been sorrow but looked more like fear...and the traces of impending tears pooling at the corners.

 _All right,_ he thought, _enough of this rubbish._

Harry rose up on his elbows, arms on either side of her. "Hermione?" he said almost fearfully. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione wailed before dissolving entirely. Each sob was like a sword through his chest, but he remained silent until the storm passed. When she'd finally cried herself out, she stretched up and kissed him softly on the lips before squirming her way out from under him.

He rolled over and sat up, watching as she walked over to the writing desk in the corner of their room and extracted a small vial. It was filled about half way with some clear liquid.

"What is that?"

"It's...." Sniffle. "It's...." More sniffles and a pause to hold back deeper sobs. Harry's heart plummeted into his stomach. Was she sick? Was Jamie? Harry was off the bed in a flash, his arms around Hermione in a hug that should have crushed her bones. But Hermione pulled away almost at once. "It's a pregnancy test," she managed, choking back what was probably another bout of tears.

It was odd, Harry thought, to feel waves of relief coursing through him as his wife shuddered with misery just a foot away. He gathered her into his arms more gently this time and waited. When the wails turned to whimpers, Harry took her chin in his hand and forced her eyes to his. "You're pregnant again?" he said, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I've been too afraid to take it. But my cycle hasn't started yet and I'm usually very regular in that respect. And then I started thinking...what if I am? Jamie's still so young, we're just getting used to being parents and that's a lot without adding the stress of another child onto it. We're barely sleeping as it is and to add another pregnancy and the resulting sickness and lethargy...and we've never talked about more children. Then there's your scar hurting and the fire on Privet Drive and someone who seems to think one of us is worthy of anonymous love letters, and..."

Harry sealed his lips to hers before she added the state of the earth's ozone layer into the mix. Once he was sure she'd calmed a bit, Harry released her. "So why not take it now and end the suspense?"

Hermione met his eyes with an expression he couldn't read. She was off to their bathroom a second later, emerging a few moments after with the vial clutched in her closed fist. "It'll take a few minutes," she explained, looking a bit sheepish.

"Then let's get comfortable." He held his hand out to her and together they cuddled up on the bed, Harry with his back to the headboard and Hermione's back to his front. His arms and legs kept her cocooned as they stared at the vial. Neither of them said a word.

Then the liquid turned a bright red and Hermione sighed.

"What?"

"I'm not pregnant," she said softly. He couldn't tell if it was relief or regret. Harry took the vial from her hand and laid it on the bedside table, then removed his glasses and put them next to the vial.

"Are you happy or sad about it, love?" he asked, curling her into his arms as they snuggled under the comforter.

"A bit of both, I think," Hermione said, and Harry was pleased to hear no more tears in her voice. "It would be bad timing all around, but..."

"...but, it would have been nice, too," he finished for her.

"Very nice," she said, turning in his arms to face him. "Do you want another child?"

"With you, Hermione, I wouldn't mind a dozen."

Hermione laughed, which had been Harry's hope. Then he felt her slender hand snake down between them. "Then we'd better get started."

Harry saw the grin a second before her mouth pressed against his. Then her hand found what it was looking for and he knew no more.

^*^*^*^*^*^

 _Let the games begin,_ Ron thought as he closed the shop for the night. Time to begin his nightly quest to cajole a smile out of Mariah. When it had become apparent that the nightmares that plagued her every night were beginning to take a toll on her waking hours, Ron had put all of his effort into keeping her humor up. He was failing miserably and not terribly pleased about it. He'd thought briefly of a cheering charm, but he wanted something real -- something she'd feel in every part of her.

So far all his famous Weasley humor had managed was a few slight upturns to her mouth. To Ron, that was abysmal failure. He wouldn't claim victory until the smile reached her eyes. Tonight, though, he had a foolproof plan...after all, he thought, a fool had thought it up.

Ron knew that developing more effective mental shields against their Bond was the key element of his smile plan. He'd been strengthening them for a while. He'd noticed the strain in her immediately after the first bad night and had begun to work at keeping his stray thoughts from filtering through to her. The last thing she needed right now was his daily stresses about inventories and difficult customers nagging at her whenever he felt them.

Besides, he thought evilly, he could hardly startle a smile out of her if she knew it was coming.

A few moments after closing the shop, he pushed open the door to their flat and found Mariah on the floor with Rianne, Faren right opposite her. It took him a moment to realize that Rianne was sitting up. Unsupported.

"Well, well," he said cheerfully as he closed the door behind him, "look at my big girl."

Unfortunately, when she turned to look at her father, she toppled right over again.

"Smooth, Weasley," Mariah commented, catching the baby before she hit her head. "Still knocking the girls over with that charm, are we?"

The younger girl put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, but Mariah's eyes remained blank. Damn. He was going to have to pull out all the stops. As unobtrusively as he could, he walked into the kitchen and placed the paper bag on the counter. That would have to wait until they were alone.

Faren was at the door by the time he returned to the main room. "Goodbye, Ron," she said, embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she slipped through the door.

"Another fair maiden won over, Weasley?" Mariah teased, carrying Rianne over to him for good night kisses.

"Shut it," Ron said, his own ears a bit pink, "she's just not comfortable using our first names yet. Harry said that she was like that around him, at first, too." He swung his daughter into his arms and pretended to nibble on her neck and hands. Rianne responded with giggles and gurgles and hands flailing everywhere. One chubby fist grabbed a handful of straight red hair and tugged.

"Face it, Ron," Mariah said, pulling his hair free of Rianne's grip before taking the baby back and heading for her bedroom, "you're just too gorgeous for the rest of us witches to handle."

Ron studied her face as she shot the last comment over her shoulder at him. _Close, but not quite._ Only the corners again. Inwardly, he was kind of glad. He would have hated to let this prank go unused.

 _What?_ She thought at him when she walked back into the room five minutes later.

 _What ... what?_ He asked, trying to play dumb. From her raised eyebrow, he could tell it wasn't working.

 _What is close, but not quite?_ She'd dropped onto the sofa beside him, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

 _You. You're not close enough,_ he thought back, burying his true thoughts deep down and hauling her over to him. Once she was curled into his side, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple and inhaled the clean, soft scent of her. He knew many wizards liked the various perfumes and shampoos that witches used. But not him. He preferred Eau de Mariah above anything else.

 _Ron_ , she began, and then stopped when his mouth reached hers. For a moment, she allowed herself to just sink. Sink into the feel of his lips against hers; sink into the warmth of his arms. Sink into the comfort of his love. As Ron deepened the kiss, she allowed his lips to coax hers open, allowed her mind to drift and pretend that she had no more to worry about than what to fix for dinner.

But she did. She felt Ron sigh against her lips and sighed herself. "I'm sorry, Ron." Her fiancé merely kissed her temple and told her not to worry about it. She sensed something behind his eyes, but could hear nothing from his mind except a running list of inventory for the shop.

"Did you talk to Renae today at all?"

Mariah stiffened at the name, but let the uneasiness pass over her. "She owled," Mariah gritted her teeth, "with some more good news. She said the black shadow is growing closer, the fire is burning brighter and that death is imminent."

"Right cheerful, that woman. I can see the letter now. 'Dear Mariah, I'm fine, your friends are in for a shitstorm. How are you?'" Ron snuck a look at his fiancée. The corners of her lips turned up slightly, but she almost looked worse for the failed attempt at a smile. Ron sighed. "I'm sorry, Angel."

"It's okay, Ron. I need to laugh or this will start to eat me up from the inside, and I appreciate your trying to keep my humor up. But it's all...it's just all so vague. And it hasn't changed. From what she's told me, and what I've been able to piece together by talking it over with you, they _are_ in for a shitstorm. I just don't know who exactly, or when exactly, or what exactly. Hell, I don't know anything exactly. I just..."

"You just know that your friends are in trouble," Ron finished.

Ron could tell she was close to the frustrated tears that had haunted her for too long over the past few months and knew it was time to implement his latest plan. With any other witch, he'd have probably encouraged her to cry. But Mariah hated tears and resorting to them would only make her more miserable. He pressed another slight kiss to Mariah's temple, rose and walked into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with the contents of the Honeydukes bag he'd brought home and two mugs of butterbeer. He'd used his wand to arrange the sweets on a plate and set them on the table.

"Do you ever _not_ think of food?" she asked, taking a chocolate and one of the mugs.

"What would be the point?" Ron said as he swallowed the sweet he'd taken from the top of the pile. "Even if I forgot, my stomach would remind me." He watched warily as she popped the sweet into her mouth, chewed and swallowed.

"What's wrong?" she asked, noticing his careful observation.

"Just waiting," he said casually.

"For what?" But seconds later, she answered her own question by bursting into feather.

Ron doubled over with laughter as Mariah tried to yell at him. It had come out as a squawk. When she molted a moment later, he was still laughing. Mariah, however, looked fit to kill.

"I can't believe you slipped me a Canary Cream," she said blankly. "You ate one from that pile, I saw you. How come you didn't turn into a bird?"

"I made sure to put the one innocent one on top." This came out broken as he tried to say it while still laughing.

"Ronald Weasley," she said, in a deathly serious tone.

A small voice in the back of his head clicked on, and he finally realized that she didn't sound happy at all. She sounded irate. He'd opened up his mouth to apologize when he felt a wave of love radiate from her and the mental embrace he felt whenever she was overcome by her own emotions. And then she smiled. A real Mariah smile, from the tips of her mouth to the twinkle in her blue eyes.

The smile turned evil in the blink of an eye. "You are so dead," she laughed.

Ron sprang from the couch a second before she did and a chase ensued through the flat, around furniture, back and forth through the bedrooms. Twice, Mariah caught hold of the collar of Ron's shirt, but he always managed to get himself free. It didn't end until Ron's overly large feet tripped him up and he landed face down on their mattress. Mariah landed on him before he could get himself turned over.

She used her position to her advantage. There was one thing she knew about her fiancé that many didn't. Ron Weasley was extremely ticklish. And for knowingly slipping her a Canary Cream, he deserved no mercy.

He was still face down on the mattress. She was straddling his back, knees on either side of him with her bottom sitting on his. The perfect posture for ultimate suffering.

Mariah started slow, as all good torture should. Ron was struggling, but the pressure of her knees kept him in place. Her first motion was two light fingers running down his sides, from his waist to his underarms. Ron jerked.

"Mariah," he said warningly, his voice muffled by the mattress.

"You asked for this, Weasley," she said matter-of-factly, "now shut up and take it like a man."

She felt him stop struggling beneath her, but felt his whole body tense, too. _Good,_ she thought, _just how I want you._

 __

 _Be gentle with me, Angel._

 _No chance, pal._ And she began.

A touch here, a stroke there. Hitting his sides, his neck, the undersides of his arms. Every spot she knew to be extremely sensitive. He was laughing, struggling, trying to turn beneath her to stop the constant barrage. She granted him no quarter and kept tickling until she was laughing nearly as hard as he was.

Finally, feeling that revenge was truly hers, Mariah eased up and allowed Ron to roll over beneath her. He was breathing hard with the laughter and struggling. But he was something else as well. When he'd turned over and she'd settled herself back down, it was to find him in a considerable state.

 _Oh, really?_ She asked, raising an eyebrow as she settled herself, still fully clothed, over him.

 _Really_ , he grinned up at her, arching his hips more fully toward her. They were hot, naked and panting mere moments later. They rolled over and over on the mattress in a clear play for dominance. After ten minutes of being under her control, Ron clearly felt a need to regain a bit of the upper hand. He did so by teasing her unmercifully until she was the one begging. Their evening of attack and revenge left them both lightheaded, curled into each other, and smiling contentedly for the first time in months.

"I love you, Ron," she sighed, feeling blissful unconsciousness beginning to steal over her. She knew there were things they needed to discuss, things that needed saying. But just now, she could've cared less. Right now, she had Ron's arms around her. Nothing else really mattered.

It was almost as if the fates couldn't give her one night off, as an owl chose that moment to tap on the glass of their bedroom window. Ron grabbed his wand from the bedside table and opened the window. The owl fluttered onto Mariah's lap, waited for her to untie the letter and then flew out again. No fuss, no muss. But both of them knew that owls arriving in the middle of the night rarely brought good news.

"It's Renae," Mariah gasped after scanning through the letter once. "She's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

"I mean gone. As in no longer here. She had the baby a few hours ago. Kalena knew and showed up just in time to help her. The baby is the Triuna and Kalena's taken them both off. She doesn't say where."

"But what about...all this," Ron waved his hand impatiently. "She's just dropped all this crap on you, on us, about the perilous future of our family and she's off?"

"Welcome to the Diviner World, where our motto is 'every witch for herself'," Mariah said, icy hatred dripping from her words.

Ron took the letter and scanned it himself. "What does this mean?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"What?"

"'You have the means to remedy this, Mariah, you know it.'"

"Renae's gibberish," Mariah scoffed, then lay back down and curled herself into Ron's side, laying her head on his chest.

They both fell silent, but neither slept for a long time.

^*^*^*^*^*^

When Harry and Hermione went downstairs the next morning, there was another note waiting. This one was on the living room table. Hermione picked it up as Harry was holding Jamie.

"Another one?" he asked.

"No," she sighed deeply, "this is much, much worse."

Harry used his free hand to take the letter from her, and then tilted his head to meet her eyes over the rims of his glasses. "Hermione..." he said, in a you-shouldn't-say-things-like-that tone.

"Face it, Harry," she said, tension already creeping into her voice, "when my mother writes a letter, there is never any good news inside of it."

^*^*^*^*^*^

"Minerva McGonagall!"

Hermione's voice echoed through the staff room like a banshee's cry. All heads snapped up, staring at the young professor as she stood at the room's entrance, fury nearly shooting from her eyes. Harry had let his sixth years out early for the express purpose of seeing this live.

"Hermione!" Minerva stood from where she sat with Sara, her surprise evident. "Whatever is the problem?"

"You're the problem, Minerva," Hermione said, lowering her voice only slightly as she approached. "Or I should say your penchant for sending owls to a certain meddlesome mother is the problem."

Harry was fairly sure it was the first time he'd ever seen Minerva McGonagall blanch.

"Hermione, let me explain," the other woman sputtered amid chuckles from the other teachers. Flitwick appeared to be intensely interested in the ceiling, Sara looked almost blank with shock and Harry saw Snape actually clap a hand to his mouth.

"This, I'd love to hear," Hermione softened her voice and allowed Minerva to lead her from the room.

Harry rose to follow, not wanting to miss the rest of the argument, but before he took three steps towards the door, Sara stood and bolted out of the room. The curiosity that had plagued him since he first stuck his nose in Dumbledore's pensieve reared its head and he followed her fleeing form.

Once in the open corridor, he glanced left and right, but there was no sign of Sara. Until he heard the muttering. Cocking his head to the side, Harry followed the muffled sound. Sara was standing with her back to him, hands clenched on a window sill, talking to herself. He could barely make out what she was saying, but the glass in front of her bounced the occasional word back to him.

At first, he'd thought she might be crying, but the white knuckled grip and tensed shoulders told him she was muttering in anger, not in sadness.

Harry was about to step forward when he finally caught more than a few of the garbled words.

"Unbelievable....some kind of spell...no other explanation...if only I could...something's going to change...what should be mine...pay...."

Harry sank back into the shadows when he heard another set of footsteps approach and left her to her mutterings. As he hadn't heard exactly what she'd said, he didn't know what he could really do. But he fully intended to watch the new Transfiguration teacher a bit more closely from now on.

*^*^*^*

Owls flew and heads stuck through fireplaces all around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade throughout the remainder of the day. An indignant Hermione owled Ginny. Ron told Harry via his office fire. Draco, wanting to yell at someone about his mother-in-law, ended up comparing notes with Mariah, the Weasley in-law to be.

Later that evening, the six of them gathered at Draco and Ginny's to commiserate over dinner. Once they were able to compare notes a bit, it became readily apparent that the owls had been flying fast and furious between Minerva, Molly Weasley and Jeanne Granger.

From what they'd been able to piece together, Minerva had received an owl from Molly, wondering if Jeanne Granger knew about the dedication ceremony, similar to Muggle christenings, which traditionally took place before a witch or wizard's sixth month. She'd been after Ron about it for nearly two months, but Ron had chucked those letters straight into the fire. He and Mariah had enough to concern themselves with -- an impending wedding and premonitions of doom et cetera -- that a dedication for Rianne hadn't even crossed their minds.

But his mother, bless her interfering little heart, just couldn't let it lie. Instead, she'd written to Jeanne and Minerva, and between them, they'd arranged everything and planned the three owls to deliver the edicts simultaneously.

And they'd arrived via owl that morning. To each couple.

Ron and Mariah's had been waiting on their kitchen table when they'd staggered from their mutually sleepless night. Harry and Hermione's had been left on their living room table. Ginny and Draco, much to everyone's amusement, had been interrupted in the middle of some early morning loving by an owl landing on their footboard.

"It wouldn't have been so bad," Ginny laughed with the rest, "but he kept staring at us."

"Performance anxiety, Malfoy?" Ron grinned at his brother-in-law. He was rewarded for that comment by a dinner roll to the head.

"So what are we going to do about all this?" Hermione sighed, waving at the three nearly identical letters on the table in front of them.

"I think it's obvious, Mione," Harry said grimly, reading off the contents of theirs, "we're having a dedication for the kids. All of us, next weekend, at Hogwarts, at 4 in the afternoon. Whether we want one or not."

"At least they're letting us pick our own godparents," Ron interjected, which set the room to silence. The six of them glanced back and forth from parents to prospective godparents. Because there was one thing the room's six occupants knew without any wavering, the only people they wanted looking after their children if they weren't there to do it were sitting right at this table. Before anyone could give voice to the conundrum facing them, Mariah stood.

"Look," Mariah said, holding her hands out in front of her. "We can bat names around like bludgers all evening or we can do the only sensible thing." She waited a beat. "Draw names out of a hat."

Sputters of disagreement met her suggestion, and she held up her hands again to ward them off.

"No, Ron," she said, picking the one random comment she'd heard clearly as it had gone straight to her mind, "I'm not taking Rianne's godparents lightly. I'm saying that if we end up checking out early, I want Harry and Hermione _and_ Ginny and Draco to be there to raise her. And I think the rest of us feel the same. But since we can only put down one godmother and one godfather on the certificate, we have to pick somehow. Once that's done, I suggest that we each draw up a will or something that lists the care of our children to reside with the four remaining."

When she sat back down, Ron gripped her hand tightly. He could hear her desperation, feel her fear and her worries that someone would ask about the quaver in her voice as she'd spoken.

 __

 _It's so important, Ron. For them to decide, to plan. Because if she was right, there's every chance...there's..._

Ron squeezed her hand again, trying to send as much of his strength to her as possible. It seemed to work, because her shoulders relaxed and her hand ceased its death grip on his. Harry had once told him what it was like for him before the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament -- wishing he was just another student waiting in anticipation rather than in fear of what was coming -- and Ron thought he knew a bit of what Harry had felt then. As he glanced at her sister and Draco, at his best friends; he wished he was like them and had no knowledge of the possible dangers looming on the horizon.

 _We're doing all we can, though, love,_ Mariah thought at him, _think we can leave the wolf at the door for a bit and just enjoy the rest of the night?_

The six of them drew names from an old wizard's hat Draco summoned from the front closet. There were a few groans and lots of laughter at what the luck of the draw had dealt, but Ron felt himself relaxing and let his friends' teasing and taunting cheer him. Once the hat had been banished back to the closet, Ginny waved their empty plates into the kitchen and summoned pudding and coffee.

"In a way," Hermione said resignedly, "it _is_ kind of nice not to have to do anything."

"Sets a dangerous precedent, though," said Ginny, slicing cake and handing it around. "We'll have to watch them for signs of collusion more closely from now on."

"Minerva won't take part in anything of this nature again," Hermione said smugly, "not after the dressing down I gave her in her office."

"I'm still upset with you over that," Harry said, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

"She deserved it."

"I agree, love. I just wanted to be there to see all of it. I thought Flitwick was going to burst an organ keeping his laughter in." The Charms teacher's reaction reminded Harry about his observation of Sara, and he told the rest of them what he'd seen.

Harry shook his head at the memory. "She seemed manic. She was talking to herself, raving almost. I couldn't really hear her, but I did hear her say something about not standing for it much longer. Something about breaking the spell."

"Maybe _she's_ your mysterious letter writer, Harry," Draco said, offhand. "From what I've heard, she's mad about you, turning up wherever you are and such. Maybe now you'll stop casting aspersions on my good name."

Ron, who happened to be taking a drink of Butterbeer, sprayed the table in a fit of coughing.

"Can't handle your drink, eh, Weasley?" Draco smirked, wiping down the front of his robes.

"Not when I hear the phrase 'good name' used in tandem with Malfoy. No offense, Gin."

"None taken, git," Draco drawled back, trying to maintain a severe stare. He and Ron held each other's eyes for a few moments, but broke into smiles rather than blows.

"I've been thinking about that letter all day, though, Harry," Draco said. "Could it be some old flame from your past? An old ghost come back to haunt you?"

Harry rolled his eyes at him, idly pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "I don't think so," he said quietly. He chanced a curious glance at Hermione. She met green eyes with a twinkle in her own.

"Lothario," she whispered.

"Quiet," he whispered back, blushing slightly.

They were so wrapped up with each other, neither noticed the way Ron and Mariah's gazes had collided or the mental conversation that took place between them.

After two hours of talking, during which several tortures were examined for their interfering parents, they decided that there was no other recourse but to grin and bear it. As they pushed back from the table, Morgan's cries were heard reverberating around the upstairs. Draco glanced hopefully at Ginny, but she shook her head and pointed to her wedding ring. With a sigh, he headed up the stairs.

"Come and see the samples Felicity sent this afternoon for the tablecloths, you two," Ginny said, excitedly, leading Mariah and Hermione towards the lounge.

"Nope," said Mariah, digging in her heels, "I want to know what the deal was with your ring."

"Oh that," Ginny grinned, "we take turns when Morgan screams. I keep track of whose turn it is with my wedding ring. If the ring's on the proper finger, it's his turn."

"Ginny," Hermione commented, "you didn't move the ring over when he went upstairs."

"Noticed that, did you? My husband's fault he's not too observant." The three witches cackled all the way into the den.

"He has to realize you're never taking a turn, though," Hermione commented.

"Eventually, yes," Ginny grinned rather broadly. "He rants and raves like a lunatic and I offer to make it up to him."

"You ever think he fails to notice on purpose?" Mariah asked.

"Of course he does," Ginny giggled and all three dissolved into laughter again.

*^*^*^*^*^

Draco was nervous. Very, very nervous.

Over the course of his courtship and marriage to Ginny Weasley, they'd had many tense discussions. His feeble attempts at leaving her for the sake of her family stood out particularly clear in his mind. But she'd knocked down every argument he'd ever made in those instances and he was not looking forward to butting heads with her over this one.

Because once she heard what he wanted, she'd go mental. There was no way a Weasley, a Gryffindor, was going to sit idly by while Severus Snape took the role of a grandparent at their son's dedication.

In every wizarding dedication, there were godparents that stood as parents' choice for caregiver should something happen to them before the child became of age. But it was also tradition to have the child's grandparents stand up with their progeny as well. Draco's parents were no longer living -- and he wasn't sure he'd have asked them even if they were. Severus Snape, however, had been more a father to him than the man who had sired him and he was not going to back down on this.

Once Morgan was settled back in his nursery, willow sap potion on his red and inflamed gums, they made their way towards their bedroom. He had opened and closed his mouth many times, trying to get the words to come out.

"Out with it, Draco," Ginny teased as she slipped a nightgown over her shoulders. "You look like a fish."

Gathering what fortitude he could, Draco took in a deep breath and plunged straight into it. "Ginny, I know your parents will be standing with us during the dedication and I'm honored to have them there. They've accepted me as your husband and that's something I never imagined would happen. Considering our families' histories, that's nothing short of miraculous. But as I have no parents anymore, I was just..."

Draco couldn't continue his litany. Mostly because he'd always found it difficult to form words when his wife had her tongue in his mouth. And then he found it difficult to form thoughts while she did the thing with her tongue on the roof of his mouth. By the time she'd wrapped her hands across his arse and pulled his hips to hers, he was close to forgetting his own name. When Ginny had finished kissing him, she pulled back and smiled up at him.

"Are you going to ask him tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes bright.

"Who?" Draco asked, completely seriously.

"Snape," she said simply, "that is what you were working up to, isn't it? You want him to stand up with us, right?"

It took a moment for her words to register. Snape? Snape who? When some of the blood filtered back into his brain, he remembered what he'd been saying before she attacked him. Then he realized that she'd known what he was leading up to all along. "How did you know?"

"I know you, Draco."

She said it as though that answered everything. Draco supposed that it did.

"I love you, Red," he said, lowering his head to take her mouth. He tried to pour everything he was feeling into the kiss. He tried to tell her physically what he'd never quite been able to vocalize. His love for her, how lucky he was to have her at his side, and how he didn't feel complete without her. Somehow, those three words didn't seem to convey it well enough for him. He supposed that he got his point across, however, because soon her nimble fingers were unfastening his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. With his hands on her hips, Draco gently maneuvered her to the bed and eased her onto the mattress.

The sound of crumpling parchment distracted him.

"What the bloody hell?"

"Oops," Ginny laughed, reaching for her wand on the bedside table and banishing the mess to the small writing desk near the window. "I was working on wedding things before dinner. I forgot to put it up...what?" Her final question came as Draco's brow furrowed again.

"Pardon?" he asked, confused.

"You're wearing the brooding face. What is it now?"

Draco didn't bother to ask what his brooding face was. He was too afraid that she'd tell him.

"The wedding," he said blankly. "You're really enjoying all the planning, aren't you?"

"Yes," she grinned. "I love it. In fact, I found the perfect flowers for Mariah's bouquet today, they're a very rare white and red rose, and it'll be a job getting..." she stopped when Draco sighed loudly. She stared into his gray eyes, reading the secrets in them as easily as if they were written across the pupils. But she said nothing. When she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, Draco knew he'd better start talking.

"I was just wondering if you missed not having a wedding of your own to plan," he said seriously. He was apparently wearing his brooding face again because she grinned widely. If there was one thing he loved about the woman next to him, it was her ability to keep him from slipping too far into that brooding mindset.

"Nope," she said, her tone flippant as she pushed him back onto the bed and threw a leg over him, straddling his hips.

"But you helped plan Harry and Hermione's, and now you're having so much fun with Ron and Mariah's..."

"Yes, I am. I'm also quite glad I'm not the bride. All those decisions would have driven me mad. It's just not me, Draco. It's not us."

Draco thought about arguing, but her present position offered too many other, more palatable possibilities. He thrust his hips slightly upward before taking hold of hers, a very wicked grin sliding over his face. "And what exactly _is_ us, Red?"

"I was hoping you'd ask," she grinned back. She then proceeded to show him for the next several hours.

^*^*^*^*^

 __

 _Journal Entry_

_

I am trying, beloved. But I fear our time apart is not strengthening my resolve. I realize that the spell under which you've found yourself is not going to dissipate in mere days. But I need more from you than the sly looks you bestow upon me. I need the feel of you, the scent of you. I need you in my arms. Knowing that the spellcaster still occupies that happy place is like a splinter under my skin.

I shall endeavor to carry on. But it's getting difficult...to be without you near me constantly. To be so close without the ability to declare our love openly. Our time is coming, of that I am sure. Stay true and stay mine, beloved, and we will be together.

_

*^*^*^*^*^*

"Well?" Hermione asked, nearly ambushing Harry in the Transfiguration corridor before the bell signaling the end of afternoon classes rang.

"She said yes," Harry smiled, pleased but thankful that the encounter was over. He'd seen Minerva McGonagall in various states of emotional upheaval, but he'd never seen her in tears. He had been woefully unprepared for the twin rivers that had coursed down her cheeks after he'd asked her to stand in for his mother at Jamie's dedication.

Something of his thoughts must have played across his face because Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist. "Did she cry?"

"Yes," Harry said, still a bit shaken at having to witness it. "I still don't know why."

"Are you that thick or is it a man thing?" Hermione asked, her lip twitching at his stunned face. "You were asking her to stand for your mother, Harry."

When his face didn't clear of its confusion, Hermione just hugged him to her tighter and said, "Men."

The bell sounded soon after and they headed off in the direction of the Great Hall and their weekly duty at the staff table. They were a few steps away from the stairs when a door banged open to their left. Harry was astounded to see one of his students burst out of it.

"Annika," Harry said, perplexed. "What's wrong?"

She didn't say anything, she just kept staring at him and Hermione and then back at the empty classroom. Her mouth was hanging agape, her eyes wide and bright with fear.

Harry met Hermione's eyes as he drew his wand from the inside pocket of his robes and headed into the classroom.

The cold hit him immediately. It was an old, familiar chill that sent his nerves dancing and tensed his shoulders. As his eyes landed on the Dementor, he heard Lily Potter's anguished scream tear through his heart. As Dementors weren't a common sight these days, their kind having deserted England not long after Voldemort's death, it took a moment to act. Deciding to determine how it had gotten here later, Harry raised his wand and conjured his Patronus. Prongs walked quietly towards the black hooded figure and lowered his antlers as if to gore the decaying figure. The Dementor took a step backwards and Harry clued in immediately.

He dismissed Prongs with a casual wave and was just about to destroy the boggart when he remembered Lupin's first lesson and his eager third years. "Immobulus," he called, stunning the creature into stillness. Harry located a latched box in the cabinet to his left and stuffed the boggart inside. Once secure, he carried the case to the hallway.

Hermione was standing near Annika, looking puzzled. The girl was standing with her back to the wall, her arms wrapped around her own middle. Harry was a little surprised that Hermione wasn't comforting the girl. But she didn't exactly look receptive to any nurturing. Hermione had probably tried and been rebuffed. Seventh years were frequently like that; desperate for their independence and therefore unwilling to take help or comfort from any adult.

He'd been no different, so he couldn't blame her.

"It was a boggart," he explained, walking over to his student.

Annika laughed a high, still slightly panicked sound. "Well, that's good. I thought for a second..." she trailed off, looking from Harry to Hermione. "Never mind."

"Keeping it for a pet, are we?" Hermione joked, trying to lighten the fear that still danced in the young girl's eyes.

"I've got plans for this fellow," Harry said solemnly, dropping a wink to Annika for the same reason.

Their efforts seemed to have worked, because she smiled back and gave a more genuine laugh before excusing herself and walking back down the hall in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

"I wonder what her boggart was," Hermione asked as Harry levitated the case and charmed it to follow them. Arm in arm, they walked in the other direction towards dinner.

"It's a basilisk," Harry said, startling his wife. "We did some brushing up on them last year and that's what it turned into. Gave me a few bad memories, I don't mind saying. I was halfway to my wand before I remembered it was only an exercise."

There was a single, very pregnant pause. "Don't say it, Harry," Hermione admonished the moment his mouth opened.

"What?" he said in a would-be innocent tone.

"Don't mention my boggart from third year. I don't want to have to hurt you."

"I was going to do no such thing," Harry said in his most earnest voice, his hand covering his heart. Hermione stopped their forward progress so abruptly that the case nearly slammed into the back of Harry's head. She stood in the middle of the corridor, crossed her arms and raised a single eyebrow.

"I was going to speculate that these days it might be Minerva telling you your lesson plans are all wrong."

She said nothing for a long time. "You're going to pay for that one, Potter," she snorted, although Harry could see the corners of her mouth fighting to stay down.

"Is that a promise or a threat, Mrs. Potter?" He grinned at her and raised his eyebrows comically. There was something in her smile in that moment that shot through his system like fire. _It's that smile,_ he thought, _the one that she gives just to me. The one that says I love you and I want you and you're mine all at the same time._ And Harry knew that he had to kiss her and kiss her now.

He walked towards her, slowly backing her into the wall. She stopped only when her back hit stone. "Harry," she said, half warning, half pleading, her tongue snaking out to lick her lips.

"Sorry," he said, not sorry at all, "but you're just too tempting." Without another word, he swooped down and feasted on her lips. Her arms were around his neck seconds later, grabbing at the black mop and tickling the base of his neck. Harry's hands snaked under her robes to settle on her rear and pull her more fully to him. Her tongue darted into his mouth as he pressed his desire into her.

The sound of a young girl's cough had them springing apart like kids caught it the Astronomy Tower.

"Katia," Harry said, hoping the third year wouldn't notice, or comment on, the high pitch of his voice. He suddenly became uncomfortably aware of the number of people walking down the corridor. He wondered how many of his students and fellow teachers had passed by either gawking or grinning at the pair of them snogging like teenagers. Most assuredly it was more than Hermione would easily forgive him for. She'd get him back for the public display...and he was starting to look forward to it.

One of these days, he was going to have to learn some control where his wife was concerned. Then a whiff of her apple scented shampoo hit his nose as she ran nervous fingers through her hair. _Not bloody likely,_ he thought as his hunger for her kicked up another notch.

Hermione elbowed him in the stomach and tried to shut off his libido. Harry tried to surreptitiously conceal the most damning evidence as he turned toward Katia. "What can I do for you?"

"It's nothing really," she said quickly. "I was just...my sister is a first year now and she wanted to see the award we were given last term. While we were on the way out, I noticed that yours is missing. The one from your second year."

"Missing?"

"Well, it wasn't in its usual place," she clarified. "I told Mr. Filch, but he didn't seem to think it was a big deal. Just told me I'd forgotten where it was and to get back to class."

"That sounds like Mr. Filch all right," Harry conceded. "But I wouldn't worry about it, Katia. He probably moved everything around when he cleaned up all the glass after Peeves went berserk. I'm sure it's still there."

"I suppose that makes sense," she said, sounding so much like Hermione that he was struggling to keep his face blank. Her fellow Gryffindors called after her a moment later and she went over to them. He and Hermione stood staring after them, what some were already calling the second Gryffindor Trio, with a pang of nostalgia.

"Doesn't seem like that long ago that we were ferreting out the school's secrets, does it?" Hermione asked as they moved into the Great Hall.

"No, it doesn't. And that reminds me, I need to send an owl to Draco later tonight about Ron's bachelor party," Harry said and they both shared a laugh at the memory of the bouncing ferret who was now one of their dearest friends.

Dinner that night was an exercise in torture. Stuck at the staff table, Harry had to endure Hermione's version of revenge. He was positive no one else in the Great Hall had a clue what was going on, but he also knew that he if he didn't get his wife alone soon, he was going to implode. To the rest of creation, she looked as though she was carrying on a conversation about the implications of Arithmantical theory. But as she spouted numbers and spells to LinaVector, she was slowly creeping her slender fingers up and down his legs. What is it with her and driving him mad under tables?

"Hermione," Harry half groaned, half growled.

"Yes, Harry?" she said in a would-be innocent tone. The devilish light in her eyes gave her away.

"Nearly finished?" he asked, indicating her plate.

She grinned even wider as her index finger hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Nearly."

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He stood, sent up the hundredth thank you for the billowing robes, grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her to her feet. "Good night," she called to a broadly grinning Lina.

Harry didn't even bother heading for home. He dragged her through his classroom, into the office and backed her against the wall. He wasn't particularly delicate as he threw her robes to the side and loosened her clothing. Neither was she, he thought as he felt her hands push his trousers and boxers out of the way. But there was a time and a place for delicate -- the wall of his office didn't quite qualify.

When they returned home that evening, dismissed Faren and headed up to their room, they were both still grinning like Cheshire cats. Until Hermione caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"What?" Harry said, knowing exactly what was wrong and not bothering to hide his amusement. This time, the revenge was his.

"My robes are on inside out," she said, glaring at the humor radiating from his green eyes. "And you knew. We passed twenty people when we left the school, and then Faren...and they all saw..."

"Guess I should have mentioned that, eh?" Harry said, now raising his hand to stifle the laughter.

"You are in so much trouble," she hissed, backing him onto the bed. The couple spent a rather enjoyable evening getting each other back as often as possible.

*^*^*^*^*^*

The morning of the dedication dawned dark and gloomy. A shroud of grey clouds blanketed the sky, carrying a hint of snow. The wind howled, running through the bare tree branches like children on holiday and twice as loud. It was a day to spend curled into a chair with a good book or a willing mate. But for three families, it was time to get all dressed up and brave the elements.

Morgan Malfoy was already balking at the idea. Draco could hear Ginny trying to cajole the baby into the tiny set of wizards robes Molly had sent for the occasion. Morgan hated clothing of any kind, so he knew his wife was in for a struggle. But Morgan's father had more important things on his mind this winter morning than the contortion involved in dressing an irritable infant.

Draco pulled his best robes over his slender frame and muttered to himself as he righted them. It wasn't so much that he minded being godfather to Jamie Potter; even though that probably meant that they'd end up raising the girl after her act-first-think-later parents got themselves done in over one noble cause or another. Then again, he thought, with their current level of friendship, he'd probably end up dead right beside them.

No. That's not what was bothering him. The part that seemed hardest to swallow was that in less than two hours time he would be watching as Ron Weasley become godfather to his son. It was almost beyond comprehension. Fastening the black velvet robes at his chest, he sighed deeply.

Ginny, dressed in robes of deep blue, Morgan nestled at her shoulder, came over to him, a look of utter satisfaction on her face.

"You can stop the sighing, Malfoy," she grinned up into his gray eyes. "If I'm expected to allow Snape to act as your father, you can accept my brother as Morgan's godfather."

"I should have suspected this, I suppose. You gave in way too easily on that. You going to be throwing that at me a lot, aren't you?"

"That's the current plan," she grinned. "I imagine your father's flipping over in his grave about now."

Draco hadn't thought of that. He allowed himself a moment to picture the look on Lucius' face upon hearing that a Weasley would take on such a role for a Malfoy. Suddenly, his whole outlook brightened. He could see his father's face, see it fill with blood as the man's temper heightened. He could almost hear the sputters of outrage in the voice he'd grown to loathe.

"You're right, Red," Draco grinned, pulling Morgan from her. "He'd be livid." Morgan hadn't quite finished his teething yet and was still gnawing on anything he could get near his mouth. A large wet mark on the shoulder of Ginny's robes attested to this. Ginny followed Draco's gaze and ran a finger over it. She shrugged and walked out of the room, both of them knowing it would be pointless to change. He'd just chew on the next ones. Drying spells were clearly going to be the order of the day.

All set, they stood in front of the fire. Ginny hoisted Morgan's baby bag on her shoulder and covered Morgan with a blanket. They'd found out rather early that their child despised traveling by Floo. Because of this, they walked whenever they could. But, as Hogwarts was over a mile away and it looked like snow was imminent, their method of travel couldn't be helped. Ginny lit the fire and threw the powder into it, saying "Harry's office" before they stepped into the warm flames.

Morgan, being as observant as most children are to things they find distasteful, began screaming the moment Draco's foot hit the warm flames. Within moments, they were stepping out of the fire, covered in ash and soot, Morgan screaming as if he'd just been separated from a limb.

"Nice sound, that," Ron teased as Morgan continued to wail. "What, he get a good look at his dad this morning?"

"Shut it, Weasley," Draco said. His ears were surely bleeding by now, but he stood patiently as Ginny removed the blanket and muttered the cleaning spell to remove the soot.

"That's Godfather to you, Malfoy," Ron grinned, not wanting to lose the opportunity to tease him about it again.

"The only reason I agreed," Draco replied, walking towards where Mariah stood, "is your fiancée. As long as you're with her, you probably won't turn into half the wanker you have the potential for."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Mariah said easily, "I think. Not sure what that says about my taste in men, though." She returned his kiss to the cheek in greeting, but he couldn't help but notice the sadness in her eyes as she looked into his. Something about that look, her eyes, sent a chill of foreboding down his spine.

When Ginny and Mariah began to coo and twitter about Morgan and Rianne's dedication robes, Ron wandered over towards Harry; Draco used the time to scan the room. And it was just as he thought.

Not another Slytherin in sight. The room was, in fact, crawling with Gryffindors, both past and present.

He supposed it shouldn't be a surprise to see Remus Lupin and Sirius Black there, but it was a bit odd to see one of them with a date. Draco almost choked when the woman standing with them rose on her toes to kiss Lupin's mouth. He suppressed a quick shudder but kept his face impassive.

"A bit unpalatable, isn't it?" said a deep voice behind him.

Draco spun to face his fellow Slytherin, a look of comical horror on his face. "I suppose werewolves need love, as well." He considered this. "How do you suppose...?"

"I don't even want to think about it," Severus held up a hand to stop him. "Good morning, Ginny. You're looking well."

"Good morning, Severus," Ginny said, and Draco was glad to hear not a trace of malice in her voice. He'd have fallen in love with her again for that alone, if he wasn't hopelessly gone already.

Hermione entered the room a few moments later, Minerva McGonagall and the Grangers in her wake as well as a wizard Draco had never seen before. Draco blinked when he took in the man's Muggle attire. And then it hit him, this man must be the surprise he'd heard Ginny muttering about over the past week. She hadn't said much to him, but he knew it involved Mariah. He shot his eyes to her just as she moved away from the main group to stand by a frost covered window.

Mariah was staring into the patterns the frozen condensation had created as if they held the answers to all of her questions. Her fears and sorrows were fighting with the joy of the day's upcoming event. She was afraid that the dark feelings were winning. Since Renae's departure, she'd been unable to put the woman's dark predictions and portents out of her head for more than a few hours at a time. Her dreams remained disturbed, but she could get no more clear indication of what they meant or what they were trying to tell her. A very small part of her wished she'd listened harder when her mother had explained about dreams and signs. But even in her teens, she'd loathed the idea of having anything to do with her mother's world.

Her blond head shook in a disgusted, almost desperate attempt to dislodge any such thoughts. Dreams were just dreams. They weren't future pictures or omens of doom. They were just as she'd told Hermione back at that Virginia library so long ago. Dreams were just the subconscious taking out the trash. Nothing more, nothing less.

She snuck a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at the Malfoys and she felt the sadness start to sneak into the corners of her soul. Ginny, Morgan and Draco sat together on an oversized loveseat, speaking with Severus Snape. Her heart lurched as Ginny placed her hand to Draco's arm and squeezed slightly. Then she felt a pair of lips on the back of her neck. She didn't even bother to tease.

"Hey love," she said on a sigh, trying still to shake off the doom-and-gloom persona that tended to cling to her when they were gathered together.

"You planning on smiling at all today?" Ron said. Mariah whipped her head around to bore her eyes into his. He was as closed off to her as a complete stranger. She could get no sense of him at all, not even a vague thought that he was hungry.

"What are you hiding from me?" she accused, her tone soft so as not to attract attention.

"A present, Angel," Ron grinned, leaning down to kiss her forehead. When he pulled back, their eyes held each other's again.

 __

 _Turn around, Mariah, towards the door._

She did. Unbelievable as it was, her father was standing by the door with Harry, Hermione and Hermione's parents.

"Daddy?" she said, tears filling her eyes as she ran across the room to him.

Her father caught her tightly to him and spun her in a circle. When they stopped, Mariah pulled away slightly to search her father's face. It had been so long since she'd seen him. She'd forgotten how much he could calm her, settle her, just by his presence. In her whole life, the only thing she'd ever been able to count on was her father. The only person that didn't lie, didn't manipulate, didn't use her for their own gain. He was the only one that had ever loved her for her.

Until Ron.

"Daddy," she choked again, reaching out a hand for Ron and beckoning him over. He walked over to her nervously. Rianne, gurgling at the newcomer from the safety of her own father's arms, stared at her grandfather with bright eyes and a curious expression.

"Daddy, I want you to meet Ron, and our daughter, Rianne," Mariah said softly, her throat hoarse from the tears. The men shook hands and seemed to size the other up as their hands unclasped.

As Mariah watched the two most important men in her life shake hands, she was beyond words. But Ron felt the love, the gratitude, and the inexpressible joy nonetheless.

 __

 _I love you, too, Angel._

*^*^*^*

The dedication itself took place in the Great Hall. Normally, smaller rooms were used for such personal ceremonies, but Harry and Hermione had wanted their students to be allowed to attend if they so desired. Both were amazed to see nearly all of them there. Katia, David and Zach had arrived nearly an hour beforehand to ensure they had seats up front and Harry saw his entire seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts class right behind them. Faren was seated next to Annika and the two were chatting amicably about something. He was glad to see the friendship growing between them, glad that Faren was finally meeting some witches her own age. He made a mental note to prod her to spend some time in the village during the next Hogsmeade weekend rather than cooped up in her room with her books.

Rather than crowd the ceremonial platform with all the families at once, they had elected to perform each dedication separately. They'd drawn straws to decide the order. Draco had voiced his impatience with the Gryffindor tendency towards fate but had been told, repeatedly, to kindly sod off.

Harry and Hermione went first. They stood in the center with the Grangers behind Harry and Sirius and Minerva behind Hermione. Draco and Ginny held Jamie as Dumbledore performed the incantation over her. The five minute ceremony was repeated over Morgan. Draco shifted an eyebrow as Ron ensured he was the one holding the baby. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny elbowed him in the ribs before he could. Then Rianne was brought to the dais, held by Harry. Mariah still looked a bit red around the eyes as she clutched her father's hand.

After half an hour, the ceremony had concluded and everyone was allowed forward to welcome the new witches and wizard into their world. The girl students fussed over the babies' small robes and the boys merely looked awkward. Hermione had taken one of the empty seats and her students were all crowding around her, cooing over Jamie. Katia had stood away a little, her face showing how much she wanted to come closer but her hesitancy to do so. Hermione signaled her forward, motioned for her to sit and then placed the baby in the young girl's arms.

But one person didn't rush forward to join in the congratulatory motions. Instead, he hung back and signaled to Harry.

"Yes, Headmaster?" Harry said, joining the older wizard near the back wall.

"I've done as Minerva asked and looked into the probability of Voldemort being responsible for your scar hurting," Dumbledore began.

Harry was a bit taken aback. With all that had happened, the twinge he'd felt had faded out of his memory. True, he occasionally felt a tickle along the scar, but he had accepted Snape's reasoning and it rarely registered in his conscious mind. He recounted his discussion with Snape to Dumbledore, but the older man did not look appeased.

He caught Hermione's eye across the short span separating them and she nodded curtly. Trusting that Jamie was safe with Katia...or, she should say, safe with Faren sitting next to her on one side and Annika right next to her, Hermione rose. "Katia, could you watch Jamie for me for a moment?"

"Of course, Professor," Katia said in an awed voice, clearly touched to be left with such a responsibility.

She arrived at Harry's side just as Dumbledore started speaking again.

"That may be, Harry," Dumbledore agreed, but didn't look like he thought that was the case. "But the mark Severus continues to feel was burned into him deliberately. Yours wasn't."

"So what?" Harry said. "I don't see how that would make much of a difference." Harry touched it again unconsciously and nearly stumbled backward when he felt an answering caress.

Dumbledore merely sighed. "Just be on your guard, Harry. I sense that this...feeling...you're getting is a sign of trouble ahead. The charm to connect two people through touch is not that complex. An obscure one, yes, but not impossible. Nor is it difficult to perform. All the caster needs is one item to touch the area to be charmed and there will be a connection. And it worries me that I've seen you touch that scar no less than five times since the ceremony began."

The scream kept Harry from answering. The whole room went silent as the sound of a young girl in pain echoed around the hall. Harry and Hermione both began to run at the same time.

And they both reached Katia mere seconds after she hit the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

The corridor leading to the oak door of the hospital wing was crowded with people again; however there was none of the joy and anticipation of the last time. They weren't joyously awaiting the birth of a baby. This time, they were awaiting word of their fellow student.

Harry had carried Katia to Poppy himself, waving off Hermione's suggestion that he magic a stretcher for her. Annika had caught Jamie just before she'd hit the stone floor. Looking back on it, Hermione remembered the whole event in slow motion: hearing the scream, turning to see Katia slide to the floor, then watching her daughter tumble from the young girl's arms. And while she was still shaking, Jamie was now snoozing in her grandmother's arms, completely unfazed by her near miss.

"I want all of you to return to your dormitories," Minerva said as she exited the ward and noted the collection of students milling about. Most, Hermione knew, were there out of curiosity, and would be easy to move on their way. But some, the Gryffindors for instance, would be harder to chivvy along. In fact, theirs were the only voices of protest.

It was decided that David and Zach, Katia's best friends, would stay with her and return to Gryffindor Tower with news of her condition. Mollified, the remaining Gryffindors took their leave.

Harry glanced towards the hospital wing door. Of course, David and Zach would be staying. Primarily because David had utterly refused to leave her side. Zach walked through the oak door a moment later, head down and face pale.

"Is she awake?" Harry asked him.

"No," Zach said dejectedly. "I just couldn't stay in there anymore. I can't take looking at her like that."

Harry and Ron, who had stood vigil over a motionless Hermione a few times, traded a commiserating glance over the third year's head. Ron stepped towards the younger version of himself and led him over to a bench. "Come on, mate. You won't do her any good by worrying yourself into sickness."

Harry shot a grateful look at Ron as he drew the student into a discussion of the Quidditch team's preparations for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw. He stared at the closed door again. His heart thudded in his chest when the door opened a moment later. Hermione, sitting right beside him, took his hand and clasped it tightly.

Poppy surveyed the collection of people and headed straight for Minerva. They spoke quietly for a moment. Minerva nodded and then Poppy turned towards those assembled. Zach had popped off the bench as if he'd been sitting on a spring.

"Is she okay?" he asked before the nurse could even open her mouth.

"She'll be fine," Poppy said, her voice harried, but with a hint of compassion. "She's awake, but still in considerable pain. I have no idea what happened, or what's caused this. All I know for certain is that her injury is magical in origin."

Once the nurse had turned and walked back into the ward, those remaining broke into murmurs. All except for Ron. He turned and left the waiting room without a word.

*^*^*^*^

Mariah had taken her father straight to an empty room near the hospital wing. She knew Ron would keep her informed of the young girl's condition, either in her mind or in person. In the meantime, she needed to have this talk with her father.

"Daddy," she said quietly, "is everything okay at home?"

"Mariah..." her father began, halting when his daughter raised a hand.

"I need to know, Daddy."

"I can't answer that, Mariah, because I don't know. Your moth..," he corrected himself quickly, "Allison left about two months ago. I don't know whether she's left me completely or if she's off on some Diviner thing. She's never been one to let something as trivial as common courtesy get in her way, you know. If Allison needs to go, she goes, and screw anyone else."

Mariah, thinking of Renae's late night departure, nodded her head. "It is the Diviner way," she said, hatred coloring her every word. "I was wondering how you'd managed to come here without her tagging along."

"It seems your fiancé had thought of that, as well, even though it turned out to be unnecessary. He cares for you a great deal, Mariah."

"He loves me," she said, part of her still stunned by it. "And I love him."

"I've never wanted anything else for you, Mia."

Father and daughter embraced on the bench where they sat, Mariah soaking in all she could of her father's arm around her shoulder. Then she carried on with what she really needed to know.

"Have you been dreaming, Daddy?"

If her father was surprised by this, he didn't show it. "No more than usual. Why?" he asked, sounding truly puzzled.

"No reason," she said, not quite keeping the disappointment from her voice.

"Mia," her father began, "you never ask a question for no reason. Tell me what's wr--"

Ron's sudden appearance at the door kept her father from finishing that statement.

"Katia's awake," Ron told both of them.

"Do they know what happened?" Mariah's father asked.

"No," Ron said, his eyes fixed on Mariah's as he told her what Poppy had said.

 _She's sure it was a spell...magic of some kind?_

 _Yes,_ Ron thought back, _that's not good, is it?_

 __

 _Not if we choose to believe that Renae wasn't just spouting rubbish._

They both sighed. Mariah's father, used to Diviner/Bond mental discussions, sat quietly and let them talk. "Sorry, Daddy," Mariah took his hand again. "That was rude of us, but there are things happening here..."

"I understand, Mia. Believe me."

Further discussion was tabled as the rest of the dedication party showed up at the door. Harry and Hermione flanked by Jeanne and Brian Granger, the Malfoys, the Weasleys, Sirius, Minerva, Remus and Remus' lady friend, Jory. They all wore nearly identical smiles. Just moments after Ron had left, Poppy had come back out to inform them that she had pinpointed the cause of Katia's pain and that the girl would be fine.

They had planned on an elaborate reception in Hogsmeade, but even in light of Katia's imminent recovery, none of them really felt like celebrating. Jeanne and Molly, however, were having none of that. The staff at Ember's Tavern had worked all morning to prepare the food and they were, by Merlin, going to go there and eat it.

Eyes met all over the room, followed by a collective sigh. Even though outnumbered, those two were a force to be reckoned with when their minds were made up. The way the rest of them saw it, they had two options. Give in now or debate it with the two matriarchs and give in later. No one really had the energy for the latter, so they opted for the former.

Half an hour later, they were all gathered around a cozy fire in one of Ember's back rooms, tables overloaded with rich stews, fresh bread, vegetable casseroles and assorted puddings, all magically maintaining their proper temperature.

There was little conversation, just clusters of people talking in low voices. Sirius decided that he'd had just about enough of that. He wasn't immune to the accident, or whatever had happened to the young girl, but she was going to be fine.

All he needed was an icebreaker, Sirius thought, walking towards Moony. He knew his best friend would be after his blood for this, but one of the benefits of a longstanding friendship was the ability to use that closeness to his own advantage.

"So, Remus," he said in a loud voice, "you going to introduce me to this lovely woman, or are we supposed to break out the crystal balls and figure it out on our own?" Sirius had, of course, met Jory on several occasions over the months the two had been together, but conveniently neglected to inform everyone else.

For one moment, the wolf within him shot from Remus' eyes towards his best friend. Then he noticed that everyone in the room had turned to face him. He'd originally planned on arriving late and leaving early for just this reason; not that he was ashamed of his relationship with Jory, but in deference to her. Her innate shyness made him appear the extrovert.

He leaned in closely to the woman now clutching his hand as if it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. "Are you okay?" he whispered into her ear on the pretense of placing a kiss to her temple.

"As long as you're with me, love, I'm fine," she whispered up at him in the soft, silky voice that never failed to set his nerve endings dancing.

"Jory," he said in his old schoolteacher's voice, "I'd like you to meet my rather extended, and in one case, exasperating, family."

He'd thought long and hard about how to go about introducing this woman to those closest to him and had realized that she would probably feel more at ease if he made one large, sweeping introduction rather than throw names at her, flustering her even further. _Let them come to her,_ he thought.

And come to her they did. Sirius must have coached Harry and Hermione, who further instructed the rest, because those gathered didn't rush forward. They simply smiled at Jory and took their time stepping forward to introduce themselves to her.

Harry and Hermione, with Jamie asleep on her father's shoulder, came first. Followed by Ron and Mariah. Then, to his utter amazement, Draco and Ginny. Of all the introductions, he'd been most concerned with this one. Draco, the student, had been instrumental in spreading his condition around the school after Severus had dropped his little bomb. And he had worried that Draco, the man, would say something to that effect to Jory. As Draco neared, Remus eyed the man but saw nothing in his stance or facial expression to indicate anything other than acceptance.

He'd heard from Sirius, and from Harry, that Draco had changed since his marriage to Ginny Weasley, but he hadn't been prepared to believe it. Until Draco leaned forward, placed a kiss to Jory's cheek, shook Remus' hand and said to Jory, "I've never seen this man smile. For that, you should be praised."

"Thank you, Draco," Jory replied with a smile of her own. "I guess finding one's true mate does that, doesn't it?" Remus knew she was referring to the obvious affection the pair in front of them had for each other. But when Draco's eyes shot to his, Remus knew that he'd caught the other meaning to Jory's words.

He'd realized that Jory was a werewolf as well.

Remus stiffened, awaiting the icy remark the Slytherin was bound to make. He'd planned for this, prepared every possible comeback to spare his mate's feelings. And all that preparation, it seemed, had been for naught.

For all Draco Malfoy did in response was to tighten his arm around his wife's shoulders and smile broadly. "That it does, Jory. That it does."

The couple turned to walk away, but Remus caught Ginny's arm before they could. "What kind of spell did you put on him, Ginny?"

"I just love him, Remus. For the boy he had to be and the man he's becoming."

"Becoming?" Draco drawled, hearing every word.

"Face it, love," Ginny smiled up, batting her eyelashes at him teasingly, "you still need a _lot_ of work."

"Here, here," replied Ron, who had been standing nearby.

"Sod off, Weasley," Draco said, his grin widening. "Now I know why you lot continue to tell me that. Feels bloody wonderful."

The tension broke after that and the assembled group began to settle in and enjoy themselves. Remus told all of them of meeting Jory one full moon a few months ago, running in an open field near his home. She'd growled and snarled until he'd realized that he was trespassing on her domain. He'd retreated, but not far. Two days later, when the moon had begun to wane again, he'd returned to the field, only to find a beautiful woman walking near where the other wolf had been.

Good natured taunts were thrown around the room now that the tension had eased a bit. Draco found himself wishing that Severus had joined them so he could have had at least one other Slytherin to balance out the overabundance of Gryffindors. And slowly, they all began to enjoy themselves and leave the near disaster at the dedication behind them.

^*^*^*^*

Harry glanced up from the papers he was grading as Hermione came down the stairs. She looked harried, her bushy hair having freed itself of the elastic she'd used to try and tame it. In fact, the elastic seemed loathe to give up its job and was still clinging stubbornly to a few strands in the back.

"What was Jamie crying about?" he asked. He'd heard his daughter's crying, but had put it down to overexcitement and an inability to settle for the night. A sudden horror struck him. "She's not teething again, is she?"

Hermione paid him no mind. Instead, she set about ripping their lounge apart, cushion by cushion.

"Hermione?"

"What?" she asked, still not even looking at him. The now denuded sofa was forgotten as she began crawling on her hands and knees, looking underneath all the chairs. The sight of her backside, twitching so fetchingly as she moved, began a slow burn low in his belly. He didn't think his wife would appreciate the turn of his thoughts, so he kept them to himself.

"What are you looking for?"

"Jamie's dog. Her favorite one. The one Sirius gave to her when she was born. It isn't in her crib and it wasn't in the baby bag, I just checked. She noticed the moment I put her down and went to pieces."

"What about the spare one in the closet? Why not just give that one to her?"

"Of course I gave that one to her," Hermione growled, now throwing assorted shoes out of the cupboard near the front door. "Do I look that stupid to you? Why do you think she's quiet now?"

"What about a Summoning charm?" Harry suggested.

"Great Merlin's ghost, Harry. What sort of moron do you take me for? That was the _first_ thing I tried. It didn't work."

Harry put down his eagle feather quill and crossed the room towards her. She looked on the verge of tearing up the floorboards in search of the dog when he clamped his hands around her upper arms and pulled her to him.

"This has nothing to do with the dog, does it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I can't get it out of my head, Harry. I keep seeing her tumbling towards the floor. What if she...?"

"But she didn't, love," Harry reassured, wrapping his arms around her tightly, "she's fine."

He felt her relax by degrees, felt the tension seep out of her in his embrace and felt a purely masculine rush of arrogance that he was the only one that could do this. That it was his arms that relaxed her, his presence that grounded her when she started to spin out of control.

Something of that arrogance pressed against her stomach and she pulled back, her eyebrows raised. "Honestly," she sighed, but pressed herself more fully into him. "You'd think you were a teenager that just discovered what girls are all about."

"Can't help the way you make me feel, Hermione," he grinned back, "especially when you insist on creeping around on the floor waving your bum at me."

"I was searching for your daughter's toy, Harry," she said, trying to sound superior, "not issuing an invitation."

"Too bad," Harry said with a dramatic sigh.

"Just out of curiosity," she asked, arching her hips into him again, "what sort of invitation did you think I was giving you?"

Harry waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and kissed her deeply. "I was hoping you'd ask."

By the time he'd finished showing her, the missing toy was completely forgotten.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

 __

 _Journal Entry_

_

The child. Oh, dear Merlin, the child. I can't get the picture out of my head, beloved, the image of the child tumbling towards peril. If only I had your arms to soothe me, I would be able to stop shaking.

But I couldn't control the rage, either. I know you will understand, because I saw the way you looked. You were just as appalled as I was at what the spellcaster did. How dare she place the child in the arms of one just a child herself? That precious little girl would never have been in danger without the carelessness of that woman who controls you. When we are a proper family, I will never do anything like that.

Our time together is growing nearer, I can feel it. Every time I touch you, I can feel you touch me back. Every time our eyes meet, I can feel your love wash over me.

But it's getting so hard to see you with her, to watch you succumb to the charms she's laid around you. To know that when she's kissing you, you want to be kissing me but are helpless against her.

I think you need to fight a little harder, beloved, because seeing you together is making me wonder if you're fighting it at all.

_

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Rainy Sunday mornings, in Harry's opinion, were meant for warm fires, the Daily Prophet, and the two most important women in his life cuddled with him on the overly large sofa.

They were not meant for handsome Aurors ogling his wife.

Harry eyed Jason-the-attractive-Auror with barely concealed disdain. In reality, he needn't have bothered concealing it at all. Hermione, seated next to him, couldn't see it and Jason hadn't spared him a glance since walking through the front door.

"I'm just relieved that you're all right," he was saying, his eyes roving over Hermione's face. "When word reached me of an accident at the dedication, I Apparated straight here."

If Hermione noticed the inherent why-wasn't-I-invited question in his tone, she didn't show it. Harry would have liked to answer with an inherent over-my-dead-body response, but didn't relish the idea of Hermione transfiguring him into a dog to make a point.

"I'm fine, Jason," Hermione said, a slight shiver running through her. Harry knew it was the memory of Jamie's close call. "We're all fine. How've you been?"

It was a struggle to keep the sound of his grinding teeth from Hermione, but he gave it a go. All he wanted was for this strutting prat to leave his house so that they could return to their quiet morning before the pressures of the upcoming school day became unavoidable. Just then, he felt Hermione fingers teasing the back of his neck and memories of last night flooded over him. When their eyes met, he read her intent as clearly as if she'd spoken. _Be nice and I'll make it worth your while._

Her small, pink tongue darted out between smiling lips to moisten them. Remembering just how she'd used that tongue a few hours ago, Harry decided that putting on a pleasant countenance for her sake would be well worth the effort.

"Which reminds me," Jason was saying, trying to draw their attention away from one another. Clearly he wasn't too fond of having Hermione distracted. _Sucks to be you, doesn't it?_ Harry thought.

"What?" Hermione prompted, turning towards him again.

"An odd report crossed my desk last week. Something about a magical fire at a Muggle household. Apparently, the Muggles have decided that it was deliberately set but have no clue about the culprit. A couple of Ministry wizards were there, one of them an Unspeakable whose name I can never remember, and the other from Muggle Affairs."

Harry sat forward, his mind now focused on Jason and not what he was planning on doing with his wife later. "Are you talking about a fire on Privet Drive?"

"Yes, I thought that would get your attention." Harry heard the malice in the other man's voice, but was too intent on hearing more to care. He knew that Seamus was the Muggle Affairs wizard and that Draco was the Unspeakable, although that title wasn't exactly correct. Given the rather clandestine nature of Draco's work, Harry didn't supply the name.

"Why were the Aurors called into it?" Hermione asked.

"The nature of the fire. The Muggle Affairs wizard called an Auror friend of his and asked the kind of questions that set off our wards. So we decided to take a look at the place as well. I'm given to understand that the deceased were relatives of yours?"

"Yes," Harry said reluctantly, "of a sort."

Jason didn't ask why he didn't sound more upset at the loss of family, but turned his attention back to Hermione immediately. Harry felt like he could get up and dance nude on the coffee table, and Jason wouldn't look back at him. _Down boy,_ he scolded himself, settling in to listen.

"We found the spell point further out in the yard, near the hedgerows. From what we could see of the residual material, it looks like a regular _Inflamare_ spell, but whoever cast it did something to make the flames resistant to water. I wanted to talk to you about it, actually, because I remember those being a particular specialty of yours."

Harry watched as Hermione and Jason discussed flame charms, forgetting his rancor towards the other man in light of any information he could glean about the Dursley fire. So many things had happened since that clipping had arrived that it had been relegated to a distant memory in the recesses of his mind. Hearing that even the Aurors were stumped about it renewed its place in the spotlight. Something else began to tickle at the base of his brain. If that love letter had been for him....

He began to wonder, however contrived and ridiculous it might seem, if the person who sent the love letter and the one that informed him of the fire might just be one and the same.

*^*^*^*^*

Mariah spent the same dreary Sunday in much the same manner as her best friend, curled on a sofa with a fire, her fiancé and their child. Rianne wasn't sleeping but playing with her father. She'd had a fondness for Ron's star mobiles since early in her infancy, and Ron was using his wand to conjure pink and gold stars and keep them dancing just out of their daughter's reach.

"You need to talk to someone, Mariah," he said, as Rianne made it known that more stars were in order.

"I know," she said softly. Her father's visit, while bolstering her morale immeasurably, had left her even more introspective than usual. The nightly torment she underwent while dreaming had not decreased. She'd hoped beyond bearing that her father would tell her that they were sharing the dreams...that he was trying to tell her something. But he hadn't. The only dreams he could recall were of the usual, fishing, carpentry, and a life without being Bonded to Allison.

Which meant, Mariah knew, that her dreams were wholly her own; that her subconscious brain was trying to tell her something. Try as she might, though, she couldn't figure out what.

Katia's accident still weighed heavily in their hearts, even though the report from Poppy made it clear that the young girl would be back in lessons by Monday afternoon. Renae's last prediction was that a young girl's pain would signal the point of no return, and neither could help but feel that time was running out.

"I was going to take Rianne out to see Mum and Dad this afternoon. Dad's got some new Muggle thing he wants to show me, and Mum was all over the not-so-subtle hints about never seeing her grandchildren."

"That sounds perfect," Mariah said, relieved. "Let me throw a few things in Rianne's bag..."

"I meant alone, Angel. You have something else to do today. You promised."

She had promised, Mariah remembered now. Last night, wrapped in Ron's arms and still trembling from the recent nightmare, she'd vowed to talk to someone about the dreams. Strange thing, though, but it didn't seem nearly that urgent in the light of day.

"Okay, okay," she grumbled, watching as Ron's eyebrow threatened to lose itself in his hairline.

Half an hour later, she was kissing both of them goodbye as they stood by the green flames. "I love you," he said simply, pressing his lips to hers and trying to infuse as much of that love to her as he could.

"Right back at you, Weasley," she responded. She always felt giddy when he gave to her like that. "Try not to blow anything up, okay?"

"No promises," he winked back. A second later they were gone and Mariah was alone in the apartment.

Grumbling about fiancés that thought they knew it all, Mariah headed off herself. It seemed to take no time at all before she was outside the room, her hand poised to knock. For a moment, she allowed herself to regret not forming closer ties within her own community. For shunning what she was in her effort to distance herself from her mother. Because right now, she needed another Diviner's guidance and this was her only option.

"Come in, Mariah," the dewy voice said from behind the door a second before her knuckles touched it.

Mariah pushed open the trap door and walked up the curving staircase to Sybill Trelawney's tower room.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Hermione sat in the kitchen going over a recipe Molly had given her. It was a goulash she made that Harry apparently loved. Knowing that the Dursley fire was on his mind again, she wanted to do something special for him. Reminding him of happier days at the Burrow seemed just the ticket.

Determined to see the thing done right, Hermione had read the directions five times. All of the ingredients were measured and waiting on the kitchen counter. She was now trying to pluck up the courage to mix them all together.

 _Just add the ingredients in the order listed, Hermione,_ Molly had written at the bottom, _pretend it's a potion._

"Pretend it's a potion," Hermione said aloud, smiling. Now why hadn't anyone ever told her that? If cooking was just like potion brewing then there really wasn't anything to it. She'd always excelled in Snape's classes. This should be a piece of cake. Or a bowl of goulash, as the case may be.

A knock on their back door forestalled her culinary efforts.

"Jason?" she said, opening the door to him and stepping aside to let him in. "What is it?"

The Auror looked decidedly aggrieved about something. He stood right near the closed door and cast his eyes around what he could see of the downstairs. "It's nothing," he said, his voice quavering a bit.

"Did you think of something else?" she asked, eager for any more information.

"No, I...where's..." he lapsed off again, looking even more ill at ease.

"Harry?" she supplied and Jason nodded. "He went over to a friend's house." She didn't know exactly why she didn't want to tell Jason that Harry was at Draco's discussing the fire again. But something stilled her tongue.

"I see."

Silence descended and not a comfortable one. Jason was shifting from his right foot to his left, staring at her intensely. "I, actually, there was a question I wanted to ask you."

"What?" she asked, double checking the number of potatoes.

"Why are you wasting your talent?"

Hermione spilled too much broth into the cauldron, _bowl_ she corrected herself, at Jason's question. "What do you mean?"

"I've spoken to Moody about this and I have to know. We all saw it when you came to teach the counter. You'd make a hell of an Auror, Hermione. So why are you stuck here, teaching Muggle Studies to a group of children?"

"I enjoy teaching," she said simply. "It's not a lot of stress, except at exam time. It gives me the free time to spend with Jamie and Harry, and we're all together. If I was an Auror, I'd probably never see either of them as you well know."

"Or did you think that would be a fine idea?" Harry asked from the doorway. Jason, he noted, had the good grace to look uncomfortable at being found alone with his wife, Harry saw him square his shoulders.

"It's a fair question. I mean, everyone knows why _you're_ teaching."

Harry kept his face blank again. "Because I enjoy it? I have a flair with young minds and love helping them conquer difficult spells and creatures?" Harry suggested.

"Or because you spent the first three years out of school in a bottle," Jason offered.

"Well, there is that," Harry conceded. "But the Auror path never appealed to me, or to Hermione. We fought enough dark wizards in our youth to want to take it on professionally. After all that happened, we both wanted a quiet, non life-threatening adulthood."

Jason watched Hermione nod in agreement. He made his excuses not long after that and nearly fled from the house. "Well, what was that all about?" Hermione asked, turning back to her nearly completed supper.

"To quote Draco, I believe your Auror friend is a bit keen to get into your knickers, love."

Harry wanted to be upset about finding the man in his house while he wasn't there. Hermione's look of shock washed all that upset away. "He...my...Harry Potter!"

"That's a beautiful shade of red, love," Harry ran a finger across one inflamed cheek. His finger caressed her lips, trailed down her chin, across both breasts, dipped into her navel and then found aforementioned knickers.

"Harry," she gasped, both scandalized and tantalized at being made love to in her kitchen.

"My Hermione," Harry panted back.

Hermione had already had one encounter with Alpha Male Harry. As he bent her over the kitchen table and staked his claim, Hermione decided that she really, _really_ liked it.

Wrapped up in each other, neither of them noticed the face at the window.

*^*^*^*^*

"So, Mariah," Sybill leaned back in her winged arm chair and surveyed the younger Diviner over the rim of her teacup. "What brings you to my tower room all of the sudden?"

"A promise," she said truthfully. Sybill merely stared at her and waited for Mariah to continue. "How close were you with Renae before she left?"

"Not close at all," Sybill sighed. "I tried to befriend her, but I got the distinct impression that she was not interested. Perhaps it was the way she continually shut the door in my face."

Mariah smiled in spite of herself. "She was closed off like that, even as a child. It took me years to feel that I was really close to her. And then..."

"And then she met Sabastian."

"Yes." Mariah barely controlled a shudder at the memory of her brother, and of what he nearly accomplished. God rest his black soul.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here, or am I to merely pretend that this is a social call?"

"Before she left, Renae kept talking about...things...happening. I guess I wanted to know if you had seen anything recently."

"I take it you don't mean the last Quidditch game," Sybill smiled softly but saw instantly that her humor was lost on the younger witch. "Mariah, in keeping with my reputation around this school, you must know that I rarely predict anything with any degree of accuracy. But there is one thing..." Sybill broke off and took a slow draught of tea, obviously mulling over what she should say. "I did see one thing, not long ago during one of my classes. I saw the death of one of my students."

"From what I've heard, that's not exactly news, Sybill."

"This has nothing to do with that, Mariah. I haven't had a vision like this since the night Hermione Granger was lying in the hospital wing during her seventh year."

"Who was the student?" Mariah asked, fearing the answer.

"I couldn't see that," the older Diviner said dejectedly. "Blast the genes that only gave me a sampling of what others have in abundance. Just enough to frustrate me beyond all bearing." Sybill shook her head and focused on Mariah again. "All I could see was that my student was dead, and that he shouldn't be. I knew his death was meaningless and that it wasn't his time. That his death should never have happened."

"His?" Mariah said, her voice filled with fear and loathing.

Sybill looked thoughtful for a moment. "No, I wasn't able to see the sex of the student. I suppose I just inserted the male pronoun out of habit."

A silence filled the room as Mariah brooded over what Sybill had said. If she had seen the death, and assuming it was the same meaningless death Renae had predicted, then nothing had changed to alter Renae's vision. That death was still imminent. Mariah rubbed her now clammy hands on her jeans and paused.

"Genes," she muttered.

"Excuse me?" Sybill blinked at her.

"You said something about the genes that gave you only a partial ability."

"Well, of course. The genetic material of our fathers impacts greatly on what our abilities become. Every Diviner knows that." She eyed Mariah's blank face. "Or at least those with proper guidance."

"Don't start with that, Sybill. I realize that you and Allison were close once, but that should make you understand perfectly why I chose to separate myself from the Order."

"I won't pretend that she was the best example for you to grow up with," Sybill said. "She always had her eyes on the future. Ever since her Persuader gift became prominent, and the vision...." Sybill stopped speaking abruptly and rose to pour herself more tea.

"What vision?" Mariah demanded.

Sybill sighed resignedly and gave in without a fight. Though neither would appreciate hearing it, mother and daughter were extremely similar when it came to what they wanted. Utterly tenacious.

"She told me the story one night, right before you were born. She'd been to see Jada, a powerful Knower and head of our Order before Kalena took the reins. Jada had a vision that night, the one that set much of your life in motion. The vision that inferred her relationship to the Triuna.

"From that moment forward, Allison began researching genetics. Which traits would mix with hers to produce the most powerful Diviner. She was frenzied in her study. Then, she met your father."

Mariah could tell by the other woman's reluctance what had happened next. "Let me guess, his genes were ideal so she Persuaded him that he was in love with her and Bonded herself to him without his knowledge."

"Yes," Sybill admitted. "At first, your father was deliriously happy. But as time passed, Allison started to get distracted."

"And she started to forget to keep Persuading him that he loved her."

"Yes," the older Diviner said sadly. "It was a horrible time for him. Realizing he'd been betrayed and why. I think that was when the loss of his son hit him the hardest. When he realized that she'd sent their child away and he'd blithely gone along with it."

Knowing her parents story too well from that point on, Mariah stood and moved towards the trap door. "Let me know if you do see anything, Sybill," she said before her head dropped below the floor's surface.

Sybill waited until she could no longer hear Mariah's footsteps on the floor below her before picking up the young woman's teacup. She swirled the dregs three times with her left hand and upended it.

What she saw when she righted the cup had her writing a letter to Kalena within moments.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Monday morning dawned in sharp contrast to the dreary Sunday. The sun caressed the Hogwarts and Hogsmeade environs, but without any warming whatsoever. A vicious wind was still howling through the trees and streets. The very walls of Harry and Hermione's small cottage were nearly groaning in protest.

Hermione was ladling porridge into bowls for them, a thinner version into Jamie's. Faren came bustling in the front door a few moments after they'd begun eating looking quite harried.

She banged pots onto the stove's top without greeting either of them, rummaging loudly in a lower cabinet. "Where's the large mixing bowl?"

Hermione giggled. "I had to throw it out," she admitted. Once Harry had finished with her, the pseudo-goulash had congealed in the bowl. The resulting mess was so disgusting neither of them had wanted to even attempt a scouring charm.

"You tried to cook again?" Faren asked distractedly, cracking eggs into the smaller bowl. "You should really leave that to those that know what they're doing, Hermione."

"Faren, what's wrong?" asked a very concerned Harry. Even thought the nanny often thought ill of Hermione's culinary attempts, she never verbalized them.

Faren paused in the middle of whisking together the omelet. "Why would you ask that? Everything's fine. I just got a late start this morning." Faren noted the looks on their faces and softened her tone. "I...something troubling happened last night, and I...I guess I didn't sleep well."

The stutter in her voice had both of them doubting the veracity of her claim, but neither wanted to call her on it. "Do you need some time today? I'm sure Mariah or Ginny wouldn't mind watching Jamie..."

"I can do my job, Hermione," the nanny said rather waspishly, completely cutting off her employer. "Jamie will be perfectly safe with me."

Harry could see the confusion and hurt in both women's eyes and suddenly realized where this was coming from. "Faren, you don't think we hold you responsible for what happened at the dedication, do you?"

Faren blinked rapidly and Harry could see that she _did_ suspect that. He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "It was an accident," Harry said reassuringly, "nothing more."

Jamie chose that moment to fling a rather large spoonful of porridge off her spoon, the majority of it landing in Harry's hair. He grinned. "And Jamie is just fine, as you can see, so don't think another thing about it, okay?"

"Okay," she said, meeting Harry's eyes with tears in her own. "I'll try."

"See that you do. And you, little miss," Harry said, turning to Jamie. Hermione, he noticed, was covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes alight with suppressed laughter. "Think this is funny, eh, love?"

"Not at all," she said, her voice thick with humor. "In fact, I think porridge quite becomes you."

*^*^*^*^*^

Harry went straight into lecture with his seventh years when he arrived at class. Mostly because he knew they needed to know the theory behind the charm before they could even attempt to use it. With any luck none of them would have to, and only those that went on to become Aurors would probably ever need it.

But it was his job to give them the baseline for those future lessons.

After half an hour, during which he watched them sink into a stupor worthy of Professor Binns, Harry decided it was time to wake them up.

He took out his wand, aimed it at the packing case and said _"Alohomora"._ The boggart Dementor rose from the case, startling his entire class into full alert. Many scurried to the back of the room, some appeared frozen in fear. Wand still outstretched, Harry conjured his Patronus and watched as Prongs stood directly in front of the Dementor. Like a bull towards a red cape, Prongs charged the boggart down within moments.

The room was silent for mere seconds after Harry finished his demonstration. Then his student's voices eradicated the silence with the force of a banshee's shriek. Each student began asking when they could start learning to conjure their own patronus. Harry wasn't too popular when he informed them that they _wouldn't_ be learning it, but eventually the protests died down.

He watched his students file out after the bell, weighted by a familiar pang in his heart. For the most part, his father's absence in his life rarely affected his day to day life. But his father's Animagus form brought the loss back to the forefront every time.

"Excuse me, Professor." Harry looked up to see Annika and her boyfriend Daniel standing in front of his desk.

"Sorry, Annika," Harry shook off his longing for the past and focused on the present. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you'd had a chance to look over my application yet."

"Application?"

"The one to the Auror Institute. We talked about my going there near the end of last year, remember? You said you'd look over my essay."

"Right," Harry said, suddenly remembering. "I'm sorry, but with one thing and another, I'm afraid it slipped my mind." By "one thing and another", Harry was referring to his near disastrous decline into himself and temporary separation from his wife, as well as the events of this term, but he didn't feel the need to inform his student of that.

"I'll look at it tonight, Annika," Harry said, distracted by another student in his doorway. "Zach," he motioned the third year forward, "how's Katia?"

"Much better," Zach smiled, relief in every syllable. "She was supposed to leave the hospital wing today, but she's still sleeping, so Madam Pomfrey decided to let her carry on and return to Gryffindor Tower tonight."

"Where's David?"

"Down getting her Transfiguration homework. She went slightly mental when we saw her at lunch break and Madam Pomfrey got her to admit she still didn't have the energy for classes this afternoon."

Harry suppressed a grin, remembering shuttling books to the hospital wing for Hermione when she sported the face and tail of a cat. "She wanted me to come here and get our homework from you." Harry mentally decided to put off boggarts until the next day, knowing that Katia would hate missing such an action filled class.

"Tell you what. Why don't we swing down the Muggle Studies corridor, pick up Professor Granger and I'll give it to her in person. Annika, Daniel?" Harry addressed the older two Gryffindors, a bit surprised they were still there. "Care to join us?"

"We're due in...Arithmancy," Annika said, distracted. "We'll see her tonight."

An hour later, Harry and Hermione left the hospital wing, arm and arm. "Poppy said David hasn't left her side since it happened," Harry commented.

"Were you any different, when it was me in there?"

"Not in third year," Harry said. "We were too young then. For pity's sake, you shoved me into a closet at the end of third year and all I did was pinch my own leg."

They were mere steps away from that broom closet and Hermione stopped short. "And what would you do now, as a wise old man?" she asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Actually, I would." Without further warning, Hermione placed both of her hands on his chest and pushed until they were safely enclosed in the darkened room. "You were saying?" she prompted once her arms were securely around him.

"Now who's acting like a crazed teenager?" Harry smiled against her lips so that she could feel it.

"Can't help what you do to me, Harry Potter," Hermione echoed his words from before.

The kiss was just becoming interesting when the door suddenly opened. "Honestly," Minerva's voice rang out in the Entrance Hall, now crowded with students returning to their dorms after dinner. "Don't you two have a house nearby?"

"Not close enough," Harry said, wrenching the door closed again. He and Hermione stayed there for a minute before opening the door back up. Minerva wasn't fooled, though. When they saw her again, she was standing in the same place with her arms folded.

"You're setting quite an example." Both of them could see the twitch on the corner of her mouth which meant she was hiding a smile.

"Now, Minerva," Harry said, grinning as he threw his arm around Hermione's shoulders, "snogging in the broom closets didn't start with us and it certainly won't end with us."

"How tragically true," she sighed, "but it would help matters if the two most famous professors weren't being continually caught attempting to devour each other."

Their good humor lasted until they arrived back at the house. There was a letter taped to the front door.

"Well, it's about time," Hermione said in mock disapproval. "Ginny was supposed to leave me these fabric samples ages ago."

But inside the envelope was a single, folded piece of paper.

 __

 _Beloved,_

 _Seeing you makes me smile._

 _Touching you is the light in a dark life._

 _Hearing you makes my heart tremble._

 _The sight of you with someone else makes me angry beyond all bearing. I know that you are trying to fight this spell you're under, but I haven't seen much to make me believe that you're fighting very hard. Have you forsaken me?_

 _I'm sorry for sounding so insecure. I know I need to learn to trust our love. But it is so difficult when I see little to no progress._

 _Fight, my darling, fight for me. For us._

"Can we hope that this was left on the wrong house?" Harry asked after they'd finished reading.

"Sure we can," Hermione said feebly. "Just like we can hope that Snape and Sirius will one day shake hands and become friends."

"So, not bloody likely then."

"I'm afraid not."

*^*^*^*^*^

Ron still had Harry's letter in his clenched fist when he knocked on Faren's door. He was a bit surprised when it swung open at the touch of his knuckles.

"Faren?" he asked, poking his head around the door.

She was at the small writing desk near the open window and was writing furiously in a small book. She hadn't appeared to hear him, so he cleared his throat and called her name again. The girl jumped so high off of her chair, Ron suddenly wished he'd just backed out of the room and tried knocking again.

"Mr...Ron," she stammered, "I didn't hear you come in." Faren was clutching her chest with one hand and shoving the small book under a stack of papers with the other.

"I'm sorry. The door was ajar, so I..."

"No, it's all right. I was just...a little engrossed. What is it?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she'd been doing, but he had more to worry about than what the Potter's nanny did on her off time. "We were wondering if you'd mind watching Rianne for an hour or so. We have to run over to Harry and Hermione's, and Rianne's just fallen asleep."

"I wouldn't mind sitting with her at all," Faren assured him.

Five minutes later, Ron and Mariah were heading down the High Street towards the Potters house. Ron had his arm around Mariah's shoulder and she was leaning into him, trying to garner as much support from him as she could.

"Are you going to tell them now?" Ron asked, not sure if he really wanted the answer or not.

"I don't know, Ron. I don't know what to do. Then again, this could have nothing to do with any of Renae's prophesies. All Harry said was that there were things we needed to talk about and to come as soon as possible. He could be talking about nothing more than a summer holiday."

"Do you think that's likely?" Ron asked.

"No, but I can always hope."

They were about twenty feet from the Potters' front door when a person darted past them, heading towards Hogwarts. Ron had to steady Mariah as the woman nearly knocked his fiancée off her feet.

"I think that was Sara," Mariah commented, watching as the woman continued running.

"More Diviner intuition?" Ron teased lamely.

"Ha ha," she deadpanned. "I remember seeing her at the dedication. There's no mistaking that blonde hair of hers. It's nearly down to her waist."

"But what is she doing in Hogsmeade so late on a school night?"

"I don't know," Mariah answered vaguely. They had arrived at Harry and Hermione's front door and were looking at each other with equal mixtures of dread and support.

 _Whatever happens, Angel, I'm with you. Whatever you decide to say or not say._ Not wanting to be overheard by anyone inside, Ron directed this to her mind instead.

 __

 _I love you, Ron Weasley._

_

Same goes, Mariah Weasley-to-be.

_

The small smile that lit her features was worth more to Ron than all the gold in Gringotts.

Hermione opened the door for them a moment later, and Mariah noticed that Ginny and Draco were already there. She should have guessed that they would be, but a part of her had hoped that they wouldn't. A part of her wanted to confess everything to Harry and Hermione, and for them to convince her that it was rubbish. Draco's presence, as well as his wife's, curtailed any thought of full disclosure.

Once Ron and Mariah had taken their seats, Harry stood, looked at the lot of them, and then sat back down again.

"Harry?" Ron asked, the same dread that was forming in Mariah's stomach now curling in his.

"We have a problem," he said from where he sat. Then, obviously deciding that pictures spoke louder than words, he merely passed a bit of parchment at them and sat back. The four of them peered over one another's shoulders to read the note.

Draco took out his wand, touched the parchment, and muttered an incantation under his breath. It shimmered with an eerie purple light for a few moments before going back to its original white appearance.

"Written by the same person," he concluded.

"I was afraid of that," Harry muttered, stealing an over the shoulder glance at Hermione.

"What was that spell, Draco?" Hermione asked.

"A little tracing charm. When a hand touches parchment, or paper in this case, it leaves some of the skin's essence on it, oils and what have you. Parchment is more porous and retains more, but as you could see, it worked just fine with Muggle paper as well."

"Can you tell who wrote it with this charm?" Harry asked, now sitting forward in his seat.

"Not with any degree of accuracy," Draco admitted. "We use this mostly to tie correspondence to people. Once caught, we have them write on a piece of parchment and compare the colors. Even that isn't readily accepted in the courts, though. Mostly, it's used to make sure we're on the right path."

"Have there been any other notes?" Ginny asked.

"Just the two," Hermione sighed, "why?"

"Because it looks to me like part of a discussion. Like this person has been talking to you or Harry for a while. For instance, when the writer says 'I know you are fighting,' that infers that one of you has said 'I'm fighting as hard as I can'."

"So, one of us has an admirer," Hermione said, as if hearing it from someone else confirmed her suspicions.

"Sounds more like a stalker to me," Ginny replied, and five pairs of eyes turned to her at once. "We did an article about stalkers recently. And this certainly fits the pattern. First there was a sweet, affectionate note. And now this, you can hear the writer's growing frustration at seeing the two of you together."

"What do we do, then?" Harry asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Without knowing who it is, or even who this writer is so taken with, there isn't much you _can_ do except be on guard."

"On guard for what?" Mariah asked.

"Well, if this is a stalker, the letters would get more threatening. Anyone within a ten mile radius knows that Harry and Hermione are deeply in love, and show that affection openly. This stalker, if that's what he or she really is, is bound to find this upsetting."

"Or we go after the source," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Harry James Potter," Hermione turned on her husband in a flash, "if you mention Jason I will hex you into the next millennia."

"You can't deny that he's taken with you, Hermione."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth without sound for a few seconds, then she sat and sighed deeply. "No," she admitted, "I can't. But you've got your fair share of admirers too, Harry."

As four of them batted names around, each more unlikely than the last, Mariah called to Ron. She knew he could see the barely controlled tears in her eyes and clasped her hand tightly in his.

 _Ron,_ she said softly, and even her mind's voice quavered, _this is it. This is what Renae saw. I have to tell them._

 _It's your choice, Angel, it always has been. But remember who you're telling. If you say that what you know is from divination, Hermione will scoff. I know her and her disdain for everything involved in future telling._

 _Even after what Sibyll told her seventh year?_

 _Yes. I'm afraid that if you tell them what Renae said that they will, or at least Hermione will, discount it at the outset. It might even put her off her guard._

 _So...what? The option is to let them blunder on while this person, whoever it is, becomes more and more enraged?_

 _Yes. And in the meantime, we do whatever we can to figure out who the stalker is and stop it. If I remember what Renae said, we already have a description. We couldn't act before because we didn't know for sure who was being targeted._

 _Oh Ron,_ Mariah slumped again, _I wish it were that easy. Powerful as Renae is, Knowing isn't that precise. Just because she saw a dark-haired woman doesn't mean that's who were looking for. It could be a man or a woman with any color hair. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish Renae hadn't left. I wish I could ask her to look, just one more time._

 __

 _I know you do, love._

Mariah's dreams that night were the worst they'd ever been. Not long after she and Ron had finished discussing what they knew, the six of them had parted and returned to their own homes. Faren had been curious about what the late meeting was all about, but Ron told her it was merely wedding plans and she seemed appeased.

On the way home, Mariah had decided to try one last attempt to contact Renae or Kalena and set about drafting an owl the moment they were alone. Part of her knew there wasn't a prayer that either of them would respond, but felt it was the only thing she _could_ do.

Once Pigwidgeon was on his way, Mariah curled into Ron and tried to turn her mind off enough to at least slip into a doze.

But she didn't doze. She dropped into a deep sleep almost immediately and found her dream self wandering again in a sea of white swirling mist. There were no visible people, only vague, dark gray outlines surrounding her. Their voices echoed from all sides with only occasional phrases distinguishable.

"Remember, Mariah....let it come, Ria....don't be afraid of it....unlock the doors, Mia...."

"No," she said feebly to the voices. They didn't stop. If anything, their voices grew louder. "NO!" she shouted, with the same effect. So she ran, ran from the shadows, ran from the words. Ran until she left the dream far behind her.

Ron, wide awake and feeling powerless against the latest nightmare to haunt her, simply held her tightly until her body ceased its wracking tremors. He knew from experience that she'd managed to shed the worst of it once she'd stopped shaking. Thinking she was finally in a place where she could rest, Ron let himself drift off.

The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was a vague, mumbled "I won't."

*^*^*^*^*^*

Hermione stood vigil over the board duster as it wiped away the remnants of her day's lessons. This one had lived in her classroom since the Sorting Hat was still on Gryffindor's head and was as disagreeable as Peeves. And just about as destructive. The first day she'd used this classroom, it had zoomed around, knocking into her students until she'd frozen it in midair. They now had an agreement; it would clean her boards and she wouldn't dismantle it piece by piece.

Right now, however, she didn't particularly care if it did knock about her classroom for hours on end. She had exams coming up soon, in both her seventh year and fifth year classes. The late night summit three days ago was also lingering in the back of her mind. Nothing had been resolved that night except an hour of useless casting around of names, all of which had been discounted out of hand, either by her or by Harry.

She knew that Harry suspected Jason, which was ludicrous. They'd been at the Auror Institute together for three days, with Harry nowhere in sight, and hadn't made even the slightest overt gesture towards her. Hermione thought, and told Harry repeatedly, that he probably respected her for her work on the counter.

Harry still insisted on being all Alpha male about it. A small smile turned the corners of her mouth as she pictured Harry's green eyes and glasses on a smaller version of Sirius in dog form. That would teach him to...

"Hermione?"

Caught up in her own thoughts, Hermione didn't even hear the door to her classroom open. She smiled when she saw who it was.

"Jason, what a surprise! What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"I needed to talk to Harry about a student of his. She's applying to be an Auror and he wants an insider's opinion of her admissions essay."

There was something strange in his eyes as he spoke, though. Something...almost like he'd eaten something recently that wasn't agreeing with him. "Are you all right?" she asked, crossing to him, her eyes full of concern.

"I'm..." He stopped, and the look in his eyes stopped her as well. She'd only seen eyes like that once before in her life. In a cave not a mile from this room.

"Wh..what is it?" she stumbled, trying to make her voice sound as casual as possible.

"I'm not fine, Hermione," Jason said blankly. "I can't stand here and watch you throw your life away. I don't know what kind of spell that man has cast on you, but you're worth so much more than teaching brats all day. If you want to teach, come to the Institute and teach there. Instruct your peers on what you know best, fighting evil. Not electricity and cars and other such nonsense to a load of children that forget what you say the moment they leave this room."

Hermione stood in the middle of her classroom, torn between fear of what she felt emanating from this wizard and indignation over his words. She'd never backed down from evil before, and she wasn't about to now. Instead, she squared her shoulders and took two steps towards him.

"How dare you," she hissed at him, "what gives you the right to stand there and say such things to me?"

Jason took another few steps forward. "Can you honestly say that without Harry you'd be teaching here?"

"Probably not," she said calmly, "but without Harry I'd still be shelving books in an American library and wizards would still be in danger from Avada Kedavra."

"No, Hermione. You'd have never been there in the first place. It was only in helping him overcome Voldemort that you fell victim to that curse. Without him, you'd have finished your time at school ..."

"And Voldemort?" she interrupted.

Jason looked confused. As if the conversation wasn't going the way he'd intended. Hermione didn't know if this was a good thing or not. He moved towards her, closing the distance until she was forced to back up. With pure evil in his eyes, Jason continued to back her toward the wall, placing his hands on either side of her head once they'd stopped moving.

"I just can't bear it, Hermione. I can't stand by and watch you throw your life away like this."

"You have no say in the way I run my life, Jason." Hermione tried to duck under his outstretched arms, but Jason was faster. He clamped his hands on her arms and stilled her.

When he touched her, as she felt the pain from his grip, Hermione sensed the first stirrings of fear unfurl in her stomach. She might be clever, she might be a powerful witch...but he was bigger, stronger, and her wand was on the desk out of reach. Then she remembered a hot, hazy afternoon at the Burrow. A mock tickling, wrestling match. And her rather painful mistake as Harry had tickled her sides. Ron's squeal of pain.

With all of her might, Hermione raised her knee until it connected with Jason's crotch. Just as Ron had, Jason doubled over immediately. She'd just reached her wand when Harry came bolting into the room, panting and clutching a stitch in his side.

"Are you all right?" he gasped, reaching her side and facing Jason. "Sir Brian came straight to my room when he heard raised voices in here. The fireplace still doesn't work in here or I'd have been here sooner."

"I'm fine," she said, her shaky voice belying her words. "I think I may owe you an apology, though."

Harry was so glad to see Hermione unhurt, he didn't even comment. He was about to say something, though, when Jason righted himself.

"What is going on?" he asked, looking around the room, his brows knitted and eyes clear.

"Nothing that won't be solved by your leaving. And just to clarify, I mean leaving and never having any contact with my wife again. No notes, no visits, nothing," Harry said calmly, his voice icy and his wand pointed straight at the Auror's heart.

"What notes?" Jason asked, still confused. "How did I get into this classroom?"

Hermione felt Harry stiffen beside her, saw Jason's confused face, and rationally put two and two together. "What is the last thing you remember, Jason?"

"Eating breakfast at the Three Broomsticks before heading back home," he said softly, as if he was trying to backtrack his own memories to fill in the gaps.

"And when is the last time you remember seeing me?" she pressed.

"A few days ago. I came to your house to see if you were all right and to discuss the Dursley fire with Harry."

"You don't remember stopping back at the house later that afternoon?"

"What? No. I went back to my room and took care of some correspondence I've been putting off."

"Hermione," Harry said, keeping his voice low, "what are you getting at?"

"I think he's been under the Imperius curse, Harry."

Her husband tutted at her, but she shook her head and continued. "Much as it will irritate you, you have to admit that I know him better than you do, right?"

"Right," Harry admitted grudgingly and, as she predicted, irritably.

"Well, I saw the look in his eyes just now, Harry. The last time I saw hatred like that was in that cave seventh year. It wasn't Jason behind that look, I'm sure of it. I think my knee in his groin woke him up."

Harry debated the merits of asking Snape for a truth potion, but as he looked back at Jason, he realized it wasn't necessary. The man was clearly disoriented and confused, clear signs of one just coming out from under the haze of being controlled. He had seen that look so many times, on the faces of those close to him, during the height of Voldemort's rise. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't discount the evidence of his experience.

Together they led Jason to the hospital wing to make sure there were no lingering effects from being controlled for upwards of four days. Then they headed towards home.

Harry was quiet as they walked, his mind turning over and over the afternoon's events. If Jason had been under Imperius, then that left him without anyone acting suspicious towards his wife. That meant that she was probably right. That whoever was behind these notes was stalking _him._

"What are you thinking," she asked softly.

"I'm thinking that you were right about Jason. I'm thinking that I'm probably the target of these letters. And I'm trying to figure out what I did, what impression I gave to someone, that is causing all of this to happen."

"Harry," Hermione squeezed her arm around his waist even tighter. "Remember what Ginny said, it could have been nothing more than a look to set this in motion. This person is seriously disturbed."

"Be that as it may, Hermione. Why would someone be sending those letters to me?" Hermione found a small measure of humor at Harry's complete ignorance regarding his own appeal. She also knew that he would find no humor in that at the moment.

Instead, Hermione replied, "I think the more important question is _who_ is doing this rather than why it's happening, Harry."


	6. Chapter 6

__

_"I think the more important question is who is doing this rather than why it's happening, Harry."_

Hermione's comment rattled around in Harry's head for the next three days, haunting him as he tried to sleep, sneaking up on him during classes, tickling the base of his skull while he was rocking Jamie. During any spare second of the day or night, his mind was filled with "Who? Who? Who?" until it felt like Hedwig and about fifty of her closest friends had taken up residence in his head. After hearing it while he was in the loo, Harry decided the only way to exorcise it was to sit down, quill in hand, and _list_ all the possible who's.

Based on what Ginny had told them about stalkers and stalking, Harry decided to start of witches he'd come into close contact with over the past year. It was a short list. As he wrote, he thought that it was just a random collection of names. Then he looked back over it and realized that he'd listed the most likely candidates first and then progressed to the not-bloody-likelies. He actually chuckled when he wrote Minerva McGonagall's name down.

Staring at the names, he felt as if he was missing something. Before he could stop them, memories of his three-year binge fluttered in and out of his memory like gnats. So he decided to make a list of _those_ witches as well. As the first name's ink dried, Harry looked across the room to where Hermione was reading to Jamie. She looked up at him and smiled. His heart was filled with a nearly smothering feeling of guilt and he lit out of the house with a vague "be right back" soon after. Logically, he knew there was no need for guilt over his actions while he thought her dead, but...well, he just couldn't compose this list with his wife in the room.

It took nearly an hour for him to jot down the names. An hour in which he was plagued by memories, by faces...by witches with full dark hair. By grainy, gray images of drunken gropings in back rooms and dark corners. An hour to relive a half remembered past, leaving him exhausted and adrift in a sea of tragic memories.

"Harry?"

Harry was so caught up in his past that the voice and the hand on his shoulder nearly had him leaping from his own skin.

Then he saw who it was and he had to control an entirely different reaction. He didn't think Rosmerta would relish having to break up a pub brawl this evening, no matter how recently this man had had his wife pinned to a blackboard. Hermione's voice piped up in his head reminding him that the man had been under _Imperius_ at the time. _That's no bloody excuse,_ Harry told her voice, _I threw off the damned thing at fourteen. He's an Auror, for pity's sake._

"Harry?" Jason repeated, snapping him from the internal argument he was having with his wife.

"Sorry, Jason. You caught me deep in thought." Harry stood to meet the other man face to face, but made no move to invite the Auror to join him. Hermione would have called him childish, but he was speaking to the man civilly and that would have to do.

"It looked like you were trying to decide whether to greet me or beat me up."

Harry felt a grin form in spite of himself. "That, too."

"I just wanted to say goodbye before I head off. And to apologize."

"There's no need for an apology," Harry choked out, in deference to Hermione.

"Yes, there is. May I?" Jason indicated the booth. Harry nodded his head and they both took their seats on opposite benches. "I have always been proficient at throwing off the _Imperius_ curse. Ever since early in my training."

"All evidence to the contrary," Harry said shortly.

Jason nodded. "I've given this a lot of thought over the past few days. I couldn't believe that after all these years, I fell victim to such manipulation. And I think the only reason I succumbed was because part of me wanted to...wanted to believe what the voice was telling me."

Harry had hated this man on first sight, and second sight...well, every time he'd laid eyes on him, actually. It galled him to find that he had something in common with him. But given how infatuated he'd been with Hermione since his mid teens, how could he fault another man for feeling the same way? She had a way of getting under your skin and ...

"I understand," Harry said simply, offering his hand across the table to the Auror. The small, insecure part of him wanted to hold on to the enmity and antagonism and continue to loathe the man on principle alone. But that would serve no purpose. It would only continue to eat away at him until it consumed him. And he'd had enough of that behavior for a lifetime.

"Have you had any luck figuring out who is behind this?"

"That's what I'm working on now," Harry said, turning the parchments face down onto the table. He'd accept the other man's apology, but he wasn't going to invite him into his past.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Harry was about to decline when something Jason had just said caught up with him. "You mentioned wanting to believe what the voice was telling you," Harry waited until Jason indicated that he go on. "Do you mind if I ask exactly what _precisely_ the voice told you?"

"It's not real clear, but I remember a voice, a female one. She kept saying 'go to Hermione' and 'Hermione needs you'. There was more, I know, but I can't remember exact words. All I knew, all I believed, was that Hermione was in love with me and needed my help to get away from you." Jason sighed. "She's powerful, whoever she is."

"I'm discovering that," Harry said, dejectedly, turning over one list and staring at the top name.

"Well, if there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate."

"I won't," Harry said, rising to shake the Auror's hand again. Jason Disapparated a moment later.

Harry hadn't even taken his seat again when Ron came panting through the front doors, pausing once to nod to Rosmerta before joining him. Ron slid into the seat Jason had just vacated and glanced at the parchments, at the glass near Harry's elbow, and at Harry.

"It's cider," he said without preamble. "Unfermented."

"I didn't say anything," Ron said, trying to look innocent.

"No, but your glance at Rosmerta spoke volumes. Let me guess, she owled you that I was here alone?"

"No," Ron said, his ears a bright shade of red.

Harry stared at him.

"She didn't owl, Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Bloody hell," Ron groused, rubbing his betraying ears. "Apparently, Faren was here picking up her supper when you arrived. Rosmerta asked _her_ to let me know that you were here alone."

"Faren was here? I didn't even see her." Harry made a mental note to apologize to his nanny in the morning for his preoccupation.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ron asked, concern evident in his lowered voice and serious face.

"This," Harry said simply, passing the parchment over to him.

While Ron pored over the two sheets of parchment as though they held the mysteries to the universe, Harry stared at the liquid in his glass. How many times had he sat in this pub, downing glass after glass of Ogdens? A hundred? More? The part of him that was still battling cravings could almost feel the slow burn of Firewhiskey as it hit his mouth, the way it would blaze a path down his throat then settle in his stomach to spread warmth through his body. The way it would numb his brain and heart until he could bear the idea that Hermione was dead.

Then he glanced at Ron and the two lists. How many witches had he tried to console himself with? Had he, during that horrid time, made some other fatal error that was now coming back to haunt him?

"Well?" Harry asked when Ron placed both sheets down.

"I'm in awe, Harry. You were quite the witch's wizard, weren't you?" Ron commented idly, indicating the second parchment.

"I didn't make that list to brag, you prat. I made it to see if there might be someone on that list behind this mess."

"Well, I wasn't with you for any of the private time you spent with these women, Harry. You never had the courtesy to invite me along." When Harry didn't share in the lame joke, Ron continued, "But if I recall correctly, each one of these women was just as pissed as you were. Hardly the basis for a lingering affection."

"I know. I barely remember being there myself," Harry said, trying not to allow his past to overcome him again.

"Don't shatter my dreams, Harry. I'm going to be an old married man soon and I didn't have much of a swinging bachelorhood. I was too busy helping my brothers build an empire. Well, that and playing nursemaid to my drunken sod of a best mate. Let me at least pretend that you were the lothario of the wizarding world so I can live vicariously for a bit."

  
"You're not helping," Harry said, fighting a grin.

"Well, you're not looking at your glass and wishing it was Firewhiskey any more, are you?" Ron said softly.

"I wasn't..." Harry broke off when he realized that a part of him _had_ been _._ "That obvious, was I?"

"Mate, another few seconds and you'd have been drooling."

"Drooling?" asked a voice beside him. Harry turned to see Draco pulling a chair up to join them. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Well, we weren't talking about you," Ron said.

"Pity," Draco drawled, batting his eyelashes comically at the redhead. "Should I be put out that no one invited me to wizard's night? Or is this just a Gryffindor thing?"

Harry studied Draco for a few moments before cluing in. "Who told you I was here?"

"Mariah was talking with Ginny when Faren showed up," he shrugged. "Ginny thought..."

"You'd never know I was an orphan with the number of mothers I seem to have," Harry groused good-naturedly. When he was younger, all the mollycoddling would have hacked him off; but now, all he felt was the warmth of friends that had only his welfare in mind.

"Did you see Jason today?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering what he'd asked Draco to do. "What did you find out with his paper test?"

"No match," Draco sighed. "But that's not really news, is it? His sample let off a really horrid shade of green. Nowhere near the purple readings we had with the other two notes. So this Jason bloke is out of the running entirely, unless he had someone writing the notes for him."

"Which is highly doubtful. And you're right, it's not news. I suppose I just wanted to be absolutely certain before shifting my gears completely."

"Speaking of shifting Harry's gears, Draco," Ron piped up, walking gracefully through the opening Harry'd given him. "Take a look at this list."

Draco scanned the parchment and whistled softly. "I'm impressed, Potter. And to think, we voted you most likely to die a virgin." Draco glanced at the parchment again, his brow furrowing. "Where are the rankings?"

"Rankings?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"You know, the shagability ratings and so on."

Harry glanced at Draco's blank face and the smile Ron was desperately trying to hide behind his hand and dropped his head to the table. "With friends like you lot..."

"Come on, Harry," Ron said seriously. "We're just trying to help you keep this all in perspective."

"The perspective being what?" Harry asked, his head still on the table. "That some crazed woman is out there, watching my every move, possibly intent on harming my wife or my little girl?"

"No, Harry," Draco said, seriously. "The perspective that there isn't anything you can really do about it. Making a list of every woman you've ever come into contact with and studying those women through a pensieve to see if you might have done something to bring this on won't help in the slightest. It'll only drive you mad."

"If it doesn't, the pair of you certainly will," Harry said. But to his surprise, he _was_ starting to feel better. Maybe writing out that list, taking a long look at the man he'd been, had been the only way to purge the remaining guilt over his actions. Maybe it had been the only way to finally put it behind him. Feeling lighter than he had in days, Harry took the longer list, crumpled it up and shoved it into the pocket of his robes.

"What's on the other one?" Draco asked, indicating the remaining piece of parchment.

"The more probable suspects," Harry said, passing it to Draco. Harry knew the moment he reached McGonagall's name. Either that, or the butterbeer he'd ordered wasn't to his liking.

"McGonagall?" Draco said, still coughing. "Aren't we overestimating our appeal just a tad?"

Harry just took a sip of his cider. "You never know," he grinned back. When he'd started this journey of self-discovery a few hours ago, he'd never imagined that he could smile about it. He supposed that was the purpose of friendships, and of family. To help you through the rough bits, to help you find the bright spots. He may have grown up alone, but he wasn't alone anymore.

Conversation ceased as Ron and Draco looked back at the list. While they did so, Harry scanned the other patrons in the pub that night. More than a few, he noticed with a small smile, were watching the three of them warily...whether in concern that they were discussing some new dark magic threat or mindful of the possibility that they could start a roaring pub brawl, Harry wasn't sure. Based on their combined history, he supposed they could be expecting either. More than a few of them, Harry knew, were wondering if Harry Potter had indeed fallen off the wagon.

Most of the pubgoers that night certainly had, or had never been acquainted with the wagon in the first place. Sobriety didn't seem to be the order of the evening. One bloke was half on, half off of his stool and just about to slide right into someone in a purple cloak....

 __

 _Beloved...._

Harry gasped out loud and clapped his hand over his scar.

"What's up?" Ron asked, raising his eyes from the sheet in front of him.

"I..." Harry got to his feet and scanned the room's occupants frantically. All talking had ceased when he stood, but he could still hear the woman's voice in his head, over and over again like an echo. Harry scanned the room, but saw no one he even remotely recognized. The drunken bloke had finally lost his battle with gravity and was now lying face down on the pub floor.

But whoever had been wearing that cloak was gone. The person sitting next to the drunk...the one that had had a perfect view of him through the mirror behind the bar. The one in perfect position to use a connection charm to speak to him rather than just send a caress to his scar.

Without so much as a nod of explanation to his friends, Harry tore from the pub. Once outside he searched the High Street in both directions.

 _"Lumos!"_ he shouted, ripping his wand from his robes and holding it high over his head. He aimed the beam at the various alleyways and storefronts, but there was nothing for it. The street was deserted.

"Harry?" Draco said as he and Ron joined him. "What are you on about?"

"She was there, in the pub, just now."

"She who?" Draco asked.

"The one who's sending the notes."

"You're sure?"

"Dead sure," Harry sighed. "And she cleared up one nagging question."

"You _spoke_ to her?"

"No, not like that. As you were looking at the list, it felt like someone was touching my scar and I heard a woman's voice say 'beloved'."

"A connection charm?" Draco guessed.

"It's got to be," Harry said distractedly, still scanning the street. "So now we know where the mysterious scar pain is coming from. Whoever she is, she's managed to connect herself to me through my scar. Just like Voldemort did during seventh year. And she's taken it one step further and has figured out how to use it to transmit words as well."

"But that's ridiculously advanced magic, Harry," Ron said, thinking of the list. "There's only one witch on that list, besides McGonagall, that could possibly manage that."

"I know," Harry sighed. "And I guess I'll be having a little chat with her tomorrow."

"Just be careful, Harry," Draco warned, "from what Gin's told me about these things, stalkers can get violent if cornered."

"I will be," Harry said. He extinguished his wand and placed it back inside his robes. Yes, he'd talk to her tomorrow, but he'd be careful not to tip his hand. Just a friendly chat to gauge her reaction to a bit of one on one conversation.

They were just heading towards their respective homes when Ron stopped and stared at his brother-in-law.

"Draco?" Ron said. He was staring at the other man's chest.

"What?"

"You're glowing."

Harry, lost in his own thoughts, glanced quizzically at Ron who indicated Draco with a wave of his hand. Sure enough, Draco's chest had turned a bright red.

"That would be your sister. She grew tired of sticking her head through fireplaces all over creation, so she charmed this amulet to glow red if she needs to talk to me. Apparently, she was a bit taken with Mariah's ability to contact you. Ouch..." Draco ended on a hiss as he pulled the now blood red crystal away from his skin. "The longer I ignore it, the hotter it gets. Bloody nag, that woman." Draco placed his wand tip to the crystal and it cooled immediately.

"Well, I could have told you _that_ ," Ron grinned. Almost immediately, though, his face went slack. Harry knew from experience that Mariah was probably contacting him through _their_ link. Vaguely, he wondered if Hermione would be gifting him with an amulet of some sort any time soon.

"I've got to go," Ron said, casting a glance over Harry's shoulder towards his shop.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I think so," Ron said, already turning to leave, but his obvious rush belied his words.

"Do me a favor, Harry," Draco said as they reached the fork that led to their homes. "Send me a copy of that list. I'd like to do a run on each of those names. Just to be on the safe side."

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Ron was surprised to see the door to the apartment ajar when he reached the upstairs landing. Mariah hadn't told him much during their brief conversation. All he'd felt was complete shock, repressed anger, and her weary voice asking him to come home as soon as possible. He wasn't sure whether he hoped this meant Kalena had finally answered her or not. Any time anyone mentioned Diviners these days, she spat verbal venom in their direction. Even Faren wasn't immune. The young nanny had merely commented on the black band around Mariah's wrist and his fiancée had lambasted the girl for nearly five minutes.

 _Something's going to change_ , Ron thought as he braced himself to push open the front door, _if I have to track Kalena down single-handed._

Mariah was standing at the window when he saw her. She was blocking most of her stronger emotions from him, but he could still feel the rage.

Faren was standing just inside their flat. "Ron," she whispered. "Something happened. I was just on my way in and was nearly knocked over by an owl. It pushed its way past me when I got home just now. By the time I got up here, your door was partly open and I saw that," she indicated a wadded up letter in the corner of the room. "She's been there ever since. I wasn't sure if I should leave her alone or not."

"I'm sure she's fine, Faren. We'll sort it out."

"Do you want me to take Rianne to my apartment tonight?" Faren cast a worried glance in Mariah's direction.

"That won't be necessary. She's used to her mum's occasional...er...outbursts. If Mariah needs to vent it out, Rianne will sleep right through it." Ron saw Faren out, quietly shut the front door and slowly made his way to Mariah. Curiosity had him wanting to pick up the discarded letter, but he knew she'd tell him if it contained anything he needed to know.

"Angel?" Ron said, placing his hands on her shoulders and drawing her into his arms.

"It was from her." Her voice was choked with anger, as if her words were being forced passed clenched teeth. Ron wasn't sure which "her", so he remained mute.

"Allison," Mariah clarified.

 _That explains the rage_ , Ron thought. Only her mother could make Mariah this upset. He tightened his arms around her, trying in vain to suppress the shuddering fury that wracked her slender body.

"Read it," she said.

Ron reluctantly released Mariah and bent to pick up the discarded letter.

 __

 _Mariah,_

 _I know you are struggling, I have seen it. But you have to let go...let it come. You have to see it for what it is. Think of all you could do, my darling girl._

 _Perhaps you, Renae and I should meet and together we can help you through this._

 _By the way, several in the Order are worried about Kalena. She hasn't been seen in months. Have you been in contact with her, by any chance?_

 _Your loving mother_

Ron sighed deeply and scanned through the letter one more time. There were so many things that could have put Mariah into her current state. At the moment, however, he was more interested in what Allison had said about knowing that Mariah was struggling with something. More importantly, she seemed to know what was causing it. He knew Mariah would balk, but anything that would ease his fiancée from the nightmares...

 _Don't even go there, Ron_ , Mariah thought, her voice nearly as acidic in his head as it was out loud.

 __

 _But she seems to know what's haunting you, Mariah._

_

She probably had a vague impression of me having a nightmare, Ron. She's trying to use that to get me to see her. She's tried appealing to my compassion before. By Merlin, it won't work this time.

But if she...

_

"No!" Mariah spat. To Ron, she sounded vaguely like Bill's three year old when denied sweets, but he kept that thought firmly to himself. He knew he couldn't force her to face her nightmares...or her mother. Memories of finding Hermione flashed through his mind, and the anguish Harry went through when he was unable to help her. Ron supposed he'd just have to endure this, just as Harry had, and simply be there for her when her mind was ready to face her demons.

"Didn't you read the whole thing?" Mariah asked. "Can't you see what she's trying to do? You have to read between the lines. She's never literal, Ron. Everything she wrote comes down to one thing. Her wanting to meet with Renae, her question about Kalena..." Ron said nothing. "She's trying to use me to find Renae. She wants that baby, Ron. She wants to be a part of the legend, have her name next to those that reared the Triuna, and she's not above using my nightmares to achieve that goal."

"And you don't think there's anything she _could_ do...to help with the nightmares, I mean?" Normally, he wouldn't push, but he was the one that watched her endure the fear and panic every night. He wasn't going to let her set this aside without at least trying.

"Don't you get it, Ron? I want nothing to do with her. Nothing. I don't care if a kind word from her could stop the nightmares forever or if she could make the fear go away with a touch of her little finger. If it comes from her, I want nothing to do with it. And more to the point, she wants nothing to do with me. She doesn't care that I'm having nightmares, Ron. She wouldn't care if I was dying of some terminal disease. I've been having these dreams for months...if she's so concerned about me, why has it taken so long for her to write?"

Ron sighed, knowing that Mariah was probably right. Whatever she faced at night, she'd be facing it alone. He could do what he could to comfort her, but until she could voice what she saw, he was powerless. He picked the letter back up and reread it. Then something else struck him. "You set up wards months ago. Nothing written by her should have made it past the windowsill."

"Seems I had a small flaw in that plan. I didn't count on a crafty owl. We only charmed the apartment windows. It must have been waiting by the front entrance and followed Faren in. Then it pecked at our door, sounded like someone knocking, so I opened it and the damned owl seized the opportunity."

"Guess we'd better charm the doorjambs, too, then?"

"While we're at it," Mariah said, "let's charm the whole damned village."

"Could we charm England, you think?" Ron was rewarded with a small smile.

Feeling that the harshest of her rage had passed, thankfully without broken china this go round, Ron moved to the couch and motioned for her to join him. She didn't have to be asked twice. In the flutter of a pixie's wings, he'd gathered her into his arms and pulled her back to his front.

 __

 _I feel so helpless, Mariah. You're hurting and there's absolutely nothing I can do to help, to make it better. Plays hell with that whole man-protector image._

_You're doing more than you know, Ron. You're here. You're holding me. You still love me in spite of the fact that I'm a raving madwoman at times._

 _At times?_ Ron winced as her elbow met his midsection. _Seriously, though, Mariah, I'd like to slay a dragon at the very least._

 _Charlie'd have your ass if you did that._

They settled into a companionable silence, both in spoken word and mental conversation. Their minds drifted from words to images. They shared memories of their turbulent time together, from the first toe-to-toe face off in an American library to Ron's memory of seeing Mariah pregnant for the first time. Their fights, their reconciliations. The day Rianne was born. Each image, the good and the bad, bound them even more than the mark around Mariah's wrist. Each image from their past brought them peace in the turbulence of their present.

 _Not much longer, love_ , Ron thought to her, rubbing an idle finger over the now vacant left hand ring finger.

 _I know,_ Mariah thought back, _it still feels like too long to wait, though_. He felt the warmth, the love, the peace flow into her. He didn't know if she was drawing it from him or sending it to him. It didn't matter. All he cared about was keeping her in this cocoon, keeping her safe from the demons that haunted her. Loving her until the day he died.

 _That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard,_ Mariah said, turning to face him. He was just about to make it a bit more romantic when he felt her entire body go rigid.

 _Angel?_

 __

 _He's dead, Ron. He's dead. Right there, on the floor._

Ron whipped his head around. She was fixated on a section of floor right near their kitchen table, but the space was empty of anyone, dead _or_ alive.

"There's no one there," Ron said, hand to her chin, trying to force her to look away.

"There will be, Ron." Mariah said in a blank tone that sent icicles down his spine. "There will be."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

They'd been lying in bed for nearly an hour. The silence was deafening as each fought for a way to start this conversation. After Harry turned over in bed for the fifth time in as many minutes, Hermione's exasperation took over.

"All right, I've had enough," she announced sharply, sitting up and turning to face her husband. "Out with it."

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying for perplexed. Even in the dim glow of moonlight filtering through their window, he could see the raised eyebrow.

"Don't patronize me, Harry Potter," she warned, her quiet tone adding more impact to her words than if she'd shouted them. "I want to know what had you tearing out of here earlier this evening, and I want to know what you're brooding over now."

Realizing that denial was useless, Harry sat up in bed and faced her. He did not pull her to him; if anything, he tried to put more distance between them.

"Remember what you said a few days ago? About focusing on _who_ was doing this rather than why it was happening?"

"Yes," she said warily, drawing the word out. And then everything clicked into place and she knew why he was brooding again. As with everyone else, she knew the only way to banish the brooding was with laughter...and love.

"Well, that's what I tried to do this evening. Make out a list of all the witches I've come into contact with over the past year..."

"No wizards?" Hermione interrupted quizzically.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow at her before continuing. "As that list was rather short, with only one likely candidate...and even that one fairly hard to believe--"

"Who?" she interrupted again

Harry told her and Hermione nodded her agreement. Whether she was agreeing that the witch was suspect or that it was hard to believe, Harry didn't know. "Anyway, I decided to make another list."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly, "you didn't."

"I did."

"Should I be worried?" Harry just looked at her, a questioning expression on his face. "Any of these names conjure up lingering desires? A yen to recreate your youthful indiscretions?"

"I was lucky if I could put faces to most of those names, Hermione."

"You wild man," she grinned, finally closing the distance between them. With an economy of movement, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. "I'm going to say this once, Harry, and I hope to never have to repeat it. What happened while we were apart has no bearing on our marriage. You coped as best you could under very difficult circumstances. And if it turns out that one of those witches is behind this, we'll find her and we'll deal with it. But you are in no way allowed to beat yourself up over it."

Harry was silent as her words sunk in. "But..."

"There is one thing, though," Hermione said as her hips arched against him, causing just the reaction she was hoping for.

"What's that?" he asked, desire for her thickening his voice in spite of the seriousness of their conversation.

"I'd love to thank her," Hermione rocked her hips into the rigidity now pressing insistently just where she wanted it.

"Thank who?"

"The one that taught you that thing you do."

"What thing?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"You mean _this_ thing?"

"Ummmmmyes."

"You already know her." Harry paused to make sure he had her full attention. "You taught me that, Hermione. You taught me everything. I may not have been a virgin in the technical sense when we first made love back in Virginia, but I was as good as. Because you're the only one that counts. You're the only one I remember."

In her life, Hermione didn't think she would ever hear anything that would make her feel as special, and as loved, as what Harry had just told her.

*^*^*^*^*^*

It was the voice that woke him, Ron decided later. Something that shrill did not help an already troubled sleep. It had taken nearly two hours to finally ease Mariah into something resembling peaceful slumber. After nearly ten minutes of staring at the spot on the floor, Ron had finally been able to coax her off the couch and into their bedroom. Then she'd lain, wide awake, staring at the ceiling instead.

He was still learning the finer points of the whole Diviner-Bond relationship, mostly by trial and error given Mariah's reluctance to discuss it. As they lay in bed, Mariah curled into his side, Ron thought of every peaceful, every tranquil thing he could and tried to infuse those thoughts into his fiancée. After what seemed like hours, he finally felt her relax and knew that either his efforts, or her own exhaustion, had given her enough serenity to drift into sleep.

He was just feeling the first fingers of sleep teasing his own subconscious when he heard the voice. At first, he'd thought it was Mariah battling her nightmares again, but a glance at her showed a peaceful face and knew she was sleeping easy for a change.

The voice sounded again. Very carefully, he eased himself from the bed and walked toward the source. He eased the front door open and searched the upstairs landing. There wasn't anyone there, but he could hear it more clearly now. It was coming from Faren's apartment.

 __

 _"Stupid...idiotic...this one chance blown...so close...all ... fault..."_

Ron closed the door softly. He was fairly sure that it wasn't Faren's voice in that room, but the sound was so muffled, it could have been. Someone was telling the Potter's nanny off for something or she was talking to herself. Either way, it wasn't good news. He decided to owl Draco first thing in the morning and ask him to check a bit further into Faren's background. Ron wasn't concerned enough to alert Harry yet. Faren had been their nanny for the better part of a year now and had never given them a moment's pause. And Merlin knew he was the last person to make an issue of someone yelling in their apartment.

But he was still going to check into it.

*^*^*^*^

 __

 _Journal Entry_

 _Oh, my love. I can't sleep tonight. Just being so close to you, touching you, connecting with you ... words can't describe the joy in my heart. I know I can carry on now. When I saw you rise at my touch, at the sound of my voice, it was all I could do not to rush into your waiting arms. But I know now is still the time for discretion and you were with the others. And I am still not sure if they're supporting you in your fight against the spellcaster or if they're hindering your struggle._

 _I also know that I cannot bear to be apart from you any longer. Thankfully, I have figured out a way we can be together soon. How I long to finally feel your arms around me, to feel your lips on mine. Soon, my beloved, soon. I have it all worked out._

*^*^*^*^*^

Draco and Ginny spent the following morning curled up in bed and reading the morning _Prophet_ over coffee and fruit salad. At the end of the bed, Morgan was happily throwing pieces of dry cereal at them, occasionally putting one in his mouth.

"Ginny," Draco said mildly as yet another bit of oat cereal landed on his head.

"Hmmm?" she said, her attention focused on the article she was reading.

"You do realize that this is going to get messy when we begin with eggs and such, yes?"

Ginny looked up and watched as yet another cereal bit headed for her husband, this one bouncing off his forehead. "Well, for you maybe."

The Malfoys shared a long, meaningful look. One that changed meanings after about three seconds.

"Think the Emperor would mind if we put him back in his crib for a bit?"

"I think you'd be unable to function over all the screaming," Ginny said, matter-of-factly and with a trace of disappointment.

"I've never minded your screaming before," Draco leered, leaning over to kiss her soundly.

"I meant Morgan's, you prat," Ginny managed in the second before his lips enveloped hers.

While Morgan seemed fascinated at first watching his Mum and Dad wrestle, he grew bored with it a minute later and decided to get their attention where it belonged. Draco only sighed when two handfuls of cereal pelted him.

Leaning forward, he grabbed his son and pulled him towards them. The boy was already giggling when Draco laid him between them and began pretending to eat his toes. Each nibble caused the deep, hearty laughter that only babies seemed able to generate.

Ginny watched, fighting the tears this scene always brought. "You do realize that's why he throws cereal at you, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Draco said between nibbles, "but it works for us."

 _That it does, my love_ , Ginny thought, _that it does._

"How was Harry last night?" Ginny asked later as he dressed for work. "You never did tell me."

"He was as well as you could expect, given recent events. He's going after this with all his usual tenacity. But he has a list made up for me. Witches he's come into contact with over the last year," he clarified for his wife. "I'll do a bit of investigating at work today."

The arrival of the morning post stilled any further conversation as Ginny and Draco sorted the pile into his and hers. Draco placed his envelopes inside his robes but one. Ginny recognized her brother's scrawl. "What's that?"

Draco didn't answer right away. He scanned the brief note twice, uttered a soft hiss, and then placed it with the others. "It's nothing," Draco lied.

Ginny raised her eyebrow, but Draco met her stare without flinching. "I'll tell you when I can, Red."

"Fair enough," she sighed.

Ginny waited until Draco had Disapparated to work before sitting down at the kitchen table and writing out her own notes. She knew Hermione had no afternoon classes today and that Mariah desperately needed some quality witch-bonding. The circles under her eyes were getting more and more pronounced every day. It had been way too long since they'd gotten their heads together. Now seemed a perfect time for just that. A little lunch, a little plotting...perfect. She'd have to make sure that it was at Hermione's, though, so they wouldn't get sidetracked going through all the wedding things scattered about her house at the moment.

She sent her owl off with the luncheon invitations as soon as the ink had dried. The men in their lives might think they would be content to stay in the shadows.

As usual, they were dead wrong.

*^*^*^*^*^

Harry was just settling Jamie into her highchair when he heard footsteps behind him. With a grin already on his face, Harry turned towards Hermione. "And how is the love of my life this morning?"

Harry nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Faren standing there instead. An awkward silence passed, during which Harry and Faren blushed quite a bit. Hermione, right behind the nanny, tried unsuccessfully to hold back the giggles.

"Tired of me already, Harry?" Hermione said, her eyes bright with her laughter.

"Never," he said solemnly, pulling her into his arms and dipping her before planting his lips on hers. The sound of breakfast dishes clattering to the countertop finally broke them apart.

"Sorry about that, Faren," Harry said as he resumed his seat.

"No problem," she muttered. She said something else, but her voice was too low for Harry to hear.

The room fell silent for a few moments until Jamie decided things were too quiet and her stomach was too empty. Her chubby fist wrapped around her plastic spoon and set about hammering on her highchair's tray. Harry and Hermione watched her until an owl knocked at the closed kitchen window interrupting them. Hermione untied the note and the owl made itself at home on their kitchen table. Realizing it was waiting for an answer, Hermione scanned the invitation briefly.

"Who's it from?" Harry asked, deftly catching the milk container before the owl knocked it over.

"Ginny," Hermione said, taking a quill from her bag and quickly penning her response. "She wants Mariah and me to have lunch with her here today." She reattached the note and sent the owl on its way. "Since I'll be here, Faren, why don't you take the afternoon off?"

"Seriously?" Faren asked, her face a mixture of relief and happiness.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Of course. I realize we've never offered you time off on those days I don't have afternoon lessons, mostly because I spend that time working on the next week's lesson plans. I hope you know that any time you need time off, all you have to do is ask."

"I know that," Faren said, something somehow off about her voice. "And normally, I don't usually need it. But something came up last night. I was actually going to ask you later."

"Well, consider your question asked and answered," Hermione smiled. Jamie banged her spoon even louder on the tray in front of her and Faren handed her the bowl of porridge. "Now then, little miss. Is this what you're making all that noise about?"

"Harry?" Hermione asked half an hour later as they made their way across the village towards Hogwarts. "Have you..." she paused as if unsure, "is Faren on your list?"

Harry actually stopped walking and turned to face her. "Faren?" he asked, incredulous, "are you mad? She's just a kid."

"Kid or not, Harry, did you see the way she was blushing earlier?"

"That's because I embarrassed her," Harry said defensively.

"I'm just saying that you might want to consider adding her to the list. You said it yourself, you two grew quite close while I was at the Auror's Institute a few months ago. It's possible that she grew used to playing house with you and wants that back."

"Hermione, you make it sound as if we were shagging like rabbits while you were out of town."

"Well, of course you weren't," Hermione said, then waited a second. "You don't shag like a rabbit, Harry."

"There's only one effective way to shut that mouth," Harry grinned before lowering his mouth to hers. After a very thorough kiss, Harry and Hermione straightened their clothing and resumed their walk towards the school. The grounds were deserted for the most part. Several students were walking slowly towards the greenhouses; Snape was at the reedy edge of the lake collecting things in small flagons. They passed by without saying anything, but Snape did raise an arm in greeting. Harry hadn't seen much of the Potions master these days, but that suited him fine. They had reached a level of non-combativeness, true, but Harry wasn't looking to start having tea with the man, either.

Harry and Hermione parted at the Entrance Hall; Hermione headed up the marble staircase towards her classroom, Harry headed in the opposite direction.

"Promise me you'll at least think about it?" she'd said in parting.

"Promise," Harry had said, not really meaning it. He watched her until she was out of sight, and then shook his head at her mad idea. Faren? Their nanny? She must be out of her tree. Harry grinned at the very thought. She was too young. As Hermione said, he knew Faren better than she did since those three days when Hermione was away. Faren was a sweet, loving, amiable young woman. It just wasn't possible.

There was no way a witch as young as Faren would be capable enough to produce the level of connection charm that he'd experienced the night before. Then he remembered that he hadn't told Hermione about it yet. Once he did, though, he was sure that her attention would turn in the same direction his was; towards the one witch on whom his focus was fixed at this stage. One person he hoped to run into, casually, just to see what happened.

Unfortunately, it happened before he was quite ready. When he pushed open the door to his classroom, she was standing at the main window.

"Sara?" he asked tentatively.

She turned to face him, hand clasped to her chest. "Harry! You scared the life from me."

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked casually, moving towards his desk but still keeping her in plain sight.

"No, I was just looking ... out the window. Your view...it's just spectacular."

Harry had looked out that window hundreds of times. He knew exactly what was visible. The village of Hogsmeade, the roof of his house, and the route he and Hermione took to school every day.

Rather late, his ears caught up with his brain. There was something missing in Sara's voice. The usual stammer she hadn't quite lost in his presence. Her voice also sounded a bit choked, as though he'd caught her on the verge of tears.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, plastering what he hoped was a sympathetic look on his face.

"Everything's...I'm...I'm fine, Harry." The slight sniffle as she said his name said otherwise.

"Are you sure? Maybe there's something Hermione or I can do to help..."

"Help?" The teary quality was gone. The one word question had sounded like a slap. "How could you possibly help? Oh yes, I forgot. You're _Harry Potter and Hermione Granger_. The wonder couple. There's nothing you two can't do, is there?"

Harry was so jarred by her abrupt change, he simply stood there gaping like a carp, completely at a loss for words. He'd seen small signs of her temper before now, but this was the first time he'd seen it directed at him.

"I didn't mean to offend you," Harry said, walking toward her.

"Offend me? Offend _me_? Why how gallant of you. First you want to help poor old me with my problems and now you're afraid you've offended me. You, who hasn't spared five minutes to talk to me since I started teaching here. Now we're best friends? Now you're going to handle all of my problems, are you? Honestly, you really _are_ as arrogant as I've heard."

Sara slammed the door with such force; a pane of glass fell out and shattered on the floor. Nonplussed, Harry reached into his robes for his wand, still trying to figure out exactly what had just happened. He needn't have bothered because the pane jumped up and replaced itself before his hand could pull out his wand.

Harry looked up to the face peering around the newly repaired door. "Annika?"

"Is everything okay, Professor?"

"I would say that depends on your definition of okay," Harry sighed, slumping into his desk chair. Sara had been his only real suspect since Jason was officially cleared. Now that suspicion was even stronger.

Annika only looked at him quizzically.

"It's nothing, Annika. Just a little bit of stress." _A little bit?_ he thought. That was like saying a little bit of infinity. Harry removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose idly. When he looked back up, he saw that Annika was closer, but not much else. He replaced his glasses and tried to look like a Professor. He shouldn't be discussing his stresses with a student.

"I had a chance to look over that Auror essay, by the way," he said, rifling through the papers in his bag. The list came out first, but he hastily shoved it back in. He handed the roll of parchment over to her just as her classmates began to file in for their lesson.

"Oh," she said, a bit distractedly, "thanks."

The remainder of the morning was a bit of a wash for Harry. He taught without being entirely sure he was making sense. Luckily, his seventh years were only here for progress testing for their upcoming NEWTs. He could let his mind turn over what had just happened with Sara as they pored over practice papers.

He wasn't so lucky with his third years.

Twice he called a boggart a bogey, once he referred to a "punky hink". Both events led his students into such a fit of the giggles that he decided to repeat the practice paper exercise. He thought he'd managed a nice save until he saw Katia's eyes grow as round as dinner plates.

"What is it, Katia?"

The poor girl seemed beyond speech. She just kept staring at the sheet of paper as if it was crawling with bubotuber pus. He made his way to her quickly and just barely suppressed a laugh when he saw the source of her dismay.

"Sorry, Katia," he said, grinning despite his best efforts. "That must have gotten mixed in with your class' worksheets. It's a NEWT practice sheet."

The sigh of relief from the girl was so forceful, the candles on his desk shimmered. "Thank heavens."

Harry chuckled internally all the way back to his desk. He imagined Hermione would have had the same reaction if given a practice paper four years more advanced than her current level of study.

Feeling slightly better, Harry dismissed his third years twenty minutes later. He was still trying to puzzle out Sara's odd behavior that morning, though. Based on what Ginny had told them about stalking, her erratic shifts in temperament were just one more reason to suspect her. He felt a frown forming as he tried to decide what, if anything, he should do next. Harry's head rose at the sound of someone clearing their throat. All thoughts of stalkers left him when he saw Hermione standing in the doorway.

"I thought you were having lunch with Ginny and Mariah?" Harry said, rising to greet her.

Hermione simply smiled and closed the door behind her. It closed with a _click_ that he could hear from across the room. "It was cancelled," she said, her eyes now bright with devilish intent.

Harry grinned back.

*^*^*^

"Ginny, you simply must give me the recipe for those cinnamon scones," Hermione said, now wiping crumbs from said scone from the corners of her mouth.

Ginny and Mariah glanced at each other, each hoping the other would comment first.

"Um..." Ginny said awkwardly.

"So you can...what, Hermione? Make some?" Mariah asked tentatively, her lip twitching.

Hermione laughed. "No, so Faren can. She's always looking for new recipes." She laughed even harder at the shared sighs of relief from her best friends. "This was such a marvelous idea, Ginny. We've had hardly any time just the three of us, what with...one thing and another."

"Which one thing?" Mariah asked, only half kidding. "The stalker? Wedding plans? Class schedules?"

"Okay, then. Several one things." Hermione shot a sideways glance at Ginny, wondering if this was the time to bring up the real reason behind this little luncheon.

"So, did Faren have big plans for her afternoon off?" Mariah asked, either picking up on the imminent ambush or just curious.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said, a curious frown creasing her forehead, "but she sure was in a hurry to leave. She nearly knocked me over when I walked through the front door."

An uneasy pause filled the room and Ginny decided that the time had come. "Right then," she said to Hermione, then turned her attention to Mariah. "We told you that this lunch was to go over the final wedding preparations."

"About damned time," Mariah grinned. "I mean I know you told me that all I'd have to do was show up, Gin, but I haven't even tried on my dress yet..." Mariah stopped when Ginny held up a hand.

"That was an outright lie. But since you asked, the wedding preps are going well and your dress will be here tomorrow for fittings."

Mariah looked at her quizzically, but as Ginny's hand went back up when she opened her mouth, she said nothing and waited for Ginny to continue.

"The reason Ginny arranged this lunch," Hermione stated, causing Mariah to whip her head towards her best friend, "is that we want to know what the bloody hell is up with you. And we're not letting you leave until you tell us."

"I don't know what you're talk--" Again, Ginny's hand shot up.

"Bollocks to that. If the bags under your eyes get any bigger, Mariah, they'll take over your face."

"I..." She looked at her two friends. "But..." They both raised eyebrows at her, Hermione folding her arms. Mariah sighed. She was cornered. It was time to tell them the truth. _And maybe,_ she thought, _just maybe they'll be ready to hear it._

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

"So, lunch was cancelled, was it?" Harry said as he approached Hermione slowly.

"Ummhmm," she purred back, moving towards him at the same slow pace.

"Thought of a more interesting way to spend your off time, did you?"

"Infinitely more interesting," she drawled. They had finally met in the middle of the classroom. Only a breath of space separated them.

"Is...is Faren still with Jamie?" Harry asked. He was finding it difficult to form words as she began unbuttoning his robes with one hand. The other hand was drawing lazy circles at the nape of his neck. _Something smells different,_ he thought, _she must've changed shampoo._

Hermione seemed to falter at his question, though. Her fingers nearly broke the skin on his nape as her hand clenched. "Of course she is. You know I'd never endanger our baby."

Harry was about to question her choice of words, but Hermione's lips cut him off before he could.

*^*^*^*^

Mariah stared from one set of intent eyes to the other and sighed. She would have no luck in putting them off with vague "everything's fine" comments this time. On one point, though, she refused to give quarter. There were some things one was better off _not_ knowing. And in this case, full disclosure would serve absolutely no purpose. Especially for Ginny.

"I'm sure I don't have to remind either of you who Renae is, right?"

"Like we could forget," Hermione said, her nose wrinkling at the memory of the havoc that woman had wreaked.

"Well, what you may not know is that I gave her shelter at Hogwarts for a bit," Mariah waited for the explosion. It never came. Either they didn't care or they were too stunned to comment. "While she was there, she had...well, she had visions."

Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling. _Well, at least that reaction was dead on,_ Mariah thought. "Please tell me you didn't lay credence to these visions, Mariah?" Hermione implored.

"Not at first," she admitted. "But then things she saw began to happen and those visions became harder to ignore."

"What did she see?" Ginny asked. She was listening raptly, obviously not as skeptical as Hermione.

"I can't quite remember the exact words, but she saw a black shadow headed for Hogwarts. An evil presence set on destroying something I held close to my heart. She mentioned the pain of an old ghost, and that the pain of a young girl would herald the point of no return."

Hermione, Mariah noted, was no longer looking skeptical. Horrified was probably a more apt description. "The pain Harry feels in his scar?" Mariah nodded. "Katia's injury?" Mariah nodded again.

"Bloody hell," Ginny sighed.

Mariah could only nod one final time.

*^*^*^*^*

Harry felt himself sinking into his wife's kiss just as he always did when their lips met. The feel of her slight body pressed to his, her delicate arms wrapped around his neck, the taste of her mouth as he plundered its depths. The taste of...

Harry broke the kiss and pulled slightly away from her.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes only half open and staring at his mouth.

"Something's different," he said slowly. He put his finger under her chin to tilt her face upwards. He needed to see into her eyes.

"Good different?" she asked with a small, knowing smile. Her eyes told a different story. Her eyes showed the first fingers of fear.

"It just feels wrong, somehow," Harry said evenly.

The fear he'd seen disappeared instantly, replaced by something even more puzzling. He could have sworn it looked like hatred. Before he could say another word, though, she tore from his arms and fled the room at a run, opening and then slamming the classroom door behind her. She must have depressed the lock because he lost precious seconds tugging at it before finally realizing what she'd done and unlocked it. Harry ran into the corridor, but by the time he got there, he could see no sign of her. Hogwarts was known for its various passages and shortcuts, many of which easily accessible from rooms off this corridor. She could be anywhere by now; chasing after her would be fruitless.

Whoever she was.

Harry had seen Hermione sad, he'd seen her ill, hell, he'd even seen her as a cat. But until just now, he'd never seen her look anything but beautiful. In the moment that he'd said that kissing her felt wrong, though, she hadn't been beautiful. In that second, she'd looked truly ugly.

And that's when Harry had realized that the woman he'd just been snogging was not his wife.

*^*^*^*^*

Due to the bomb that Mariah had dropped, their quick luncheon continued well into the afternoon. As the babies awoke from their naps, they brought them downstairs, talking around their various gurgles and giggles rather than cutting the conversation short. Together, the three of them discussed as much as Mariah remembered of Renae's predictions and what they could do with this forewarning.

"Why didn't you tell us any of this before?" Ginny asked after two hours of intense discussion.

"Two reasons," Mariah said softly. "First, we didn't know if there was any reason that you _should_ know. The future is a very hard thing to see, even for Diviners. For all we knew, Renae could have been picking up on something entirely different. And then, when things did start to happen...well, we thought it best to just stay on guard for all of you." Mariah cast a cursory glance at Hermione.

"Because of my notorious, and rather vocal, feelings about Divination?" she guessed.

"Yes," Mariah nodded.

"I suppose that's understandable, but I'm still hacked off with you," Hermione said sharply while Ginny nodded. Mariah looked stunned. Hermione reached over to take her best friend's hand. "You should have come to us, Mariah. You shouldn't have had to take all of this on by yourself."

"But I wasn't by myself," Mariah said, a slight grin forming at the corners of her mouth as tears pooled in her eyes. "Ron's known nearly as long as I have." She looked over at Ginny. "Your brother..."

Ginny's hand once again shot up. "Don't say it, Mariah. I have this perfectly formed image of him as an insensitive git. Anything you say now will tarnish that forever."

Harry walked in a few moments later. His house was filled with a sound he couldn't immediately identify. Well, he could, but it didn't make any sense. It sounded like three witches laughing and crying at the same time. When he walked into the lounge, he realized he was spot on.

He felt a vague sense of guilt tickling the back of his neck as he caught sight of Hermione, Jamie cradled on her lap, wiping tears from her eyes. His head knew there was nothing to feel guilty _about_...but he was having a difficult time convincing his heart. Harry hoped it would be easier to convince Hermione.

In the midst of this cacophony of female emotions, Jamie and Rianne were staring from their mothers to their aunties, trying to figure out which to emulate. Morgan Malfoy was staring at him with a look of such pleading that Harry briefly laid aside his feelings about that afternoon. Stepping past the weeping women, Harry grabbed up the baby.

"Come on, mate," Harry said to Morgan, "let's go owl your Dad to come collect your Mum. Then we'll talk about Quidditch until he gets here to offset the estrogen overload you've no doubt suffered this afternoon."

"I heard that, Harry Potter," Hermione called after him, still sniffling.

Draco was just walking in through the kitchen door when Harry entered from the lounge. He stopped dead, staring from Harry to Morgan before his face broke into a large grin.

"What?" Harry asked.

Draco smiled wider. "Nothing. Just my dear, unlamented father's worst nightmare standing in front of me -- Harry Potter holding the Malfoy heir apparent. If you listen carefully, you may just hear him spinning in his grave."

Morgan, upon spotting his father, began to squirm and reach for him. Draco took him from Harry and gazed into the lounge where their wives were wishing each other teary goodbyes. "I'd go in there," he said to Harry, "but I'd regret it, wouldn't I?"

"I certainly did," Harry returned. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Draco what had happened in his classroom during lunch break, but Harry held back. That was for he and Hermione to discuss first. _Then_ they'd let everyone else know.

"Hey, Red," Draco called into the room, "you finished dehydrating yourself yet?"

"Shut it, you prat," Ginny called back.

"She adores me," Draco told Harry.

"Apparently," Harry agreed. After a few seconds pause, the pair of them burst into laughter at their own wit. Once upon a time, Harry mused, he'd hated the very sight of the man before him. Never in that long ago time had he thought that one day he and Draco Malfoy would be sharing jokes in his kitchen. Or that Draco would be the one to help him to humor after a long and trying afternoon spent with too many doubts and decisions.

Life was a bloody, funny business. Sometime, he thought as he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, he'd like to know what it was like to lead a simple, uncomplicated life. _I'd probably be bored out of my mind_ , he thought gloomily.

"What's that face for?" Hermione asked, carrying Jamie in for their dinner.

"Just wondering what our life would be like without all the drama we seem to attract," Harry explained, taking Jamie while Hermione fiddled with the food Faren had left for them.

"We'd probably be bored senseless," she said without turning, "but it would make for a nice change."

Harry said nothing as he bounced his daughter on his knees. He knew he had to tell Hermione what had happened. Phrasing it, however, was proving difficult. "Guess what happened to me this lunchtime?" just didn't work for him. "How was lunch?" he asked her instead, buying time.

"Quite illuminating," Hermione said, sitting opposite him and spooning applesauce to Jamie while Harry dished food onto their plates. "It seems Mariah's been keeping more than a few things from us."

As they ate, Hermione filled Harry in on everything Mariah had told them. Her retelling was peppered with her own observations of her best friend. The news that Renae had seen trouble ahead stunned him briefly, but he knew why Mariah had chosen to remain silent. No matter what his wife said to the contrary, the moment she heard that the information had come via any form of future telling, Hermione would have had issues with it. She may have been a bit more open to Divination since hearing Sybill's third true prediction in their sixth year - and the tragedy that came from her skepticism - but she remained highly cynical when it came to any form of precognition.

"There was something else, though," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Mariah was holding something else from us."

"You're sure?"

"Dead sure," she said emphatically. "It's bad and it involves Ginny in some way."

"Ginny?" Harry said, eyebrows raising.

"Yes. Mariah kept shooting glances at her, but wouldn't meet her eyes. I'm not sure if Ginny noticed or not, but I did. And once, when Ginny was changing Morgan, I could have sworn I saw tears in Mariah's eyes."

"Suppose Ron knows?" Harry asked, thinking he might just nip over there once Jamie was down for the night and try to find out.

"Probably. Mariah said that he's known everything else from the onset. But enough about that, how was your day? Did you get to talk to Sara?"

Harry choked on the water he'd just drunk. Hermione looked at him strangely as he wiped his mouth and then the table in front of him.

"That good? Or that bad?"

 _Saved by the scream_ , Harry thought a moment later as Jamie began to fuss loudly, rubbing tired eyes with chubby fists. He wanted to think that he wasn't using his daughter as a human shield as he removed her from her highchair, but he was honest enough to admit it. At least to himself. Together, they carried Jamie upstairs to her crib, remarking on how the afternoon with her cousins must have exhausted her. Small talk.

Jamie curled into her favorite sleeping position, on her stomach with her bum in the air, almost immediately. Harry spotted the stuffed black dog and wondered idly if the lost one had ever turned up. Then he turned to Hermione and every thought fled as their eyes met. A thousand different times they'd done this, for a thousand different reasons. And every time, they saw something different. Harry wasn't sure what she saw as her brown eyes pierced his, but it was enough to have her pulling him from the room within seconds.

They didn't speak all the way down to the lounge. She maintained her grip on his hand, led him to the sofa, sat down next to him and took his other hand.

"Tell me," she said simply.

And so he told her, starting with the connection charm and continuing through lunchtime, maintaining eye contact the whole time, hoping that whatever she saw in his eyes would tell the story for him. For a brief moment, he wished for the kind of connection that Ron and Mariah shared so he could relay his feelings as well; his bafflement, his sense of victimization. She remained stoic through his retelling, her face a blank slate. When he finished with the imposter's disappearance from his classroom, there was a pause as she turned over the recent events in her head.

"Hermione?" he said, trying to get some gauge of what was going through her mind.

"I'll kill her," she said, matter-of-factly.

Harry had a fleeting desire to smile at the she-devil look on her face as she said that, but Hermione was already on the move. She'd crossed to their closet to don her Professor's robes over the simple Muggle pantsuit she'd worn for lunch.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to tell that witch to keep her hands off _my_ husband," Hermione said. Harry got the impression that she didn't mean "witch" in the sense of one with magical abilities. "And if she won't listen, I'm going to rip the lips off her face until she does."

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Maybe it was the murder in Hermione's eyes; maybe it was the brief mental vision of Hermione wrestling on the ground with another witch. Maybe it was his wife's choice of words. Something about her reaction wiped away any lingering feelings of guilt and helped him ease more fully into indignation over how he'd been tricked.

"You find this funny, do you?" Hermione spat.

"Not funny, no," Harry said, struggling to compose himself, "but highly flattering." He crossed to take his furious wife into his arms in an attempt to calm her.

"Let me go, Harry," Hermione struggled against his embrace.

"If you're hell bent on a confrontation, there isn't a lot I can do to stop you," he tried for a reasoning tone, hoping it would break through the veil of anger surrounding her. "But I'd rather you not go alone. Ginny said that a stalker can get violent if confronted or cornered. Let's take tonight, cool off a bit, then tomorrow..."

"Fine," she ground out.

Thinking she'd acquiesced, Harry released her. She didn't remove her robes, however. Instead, she crossed to the fireplace, threw in a handful of black powder and called for Mariah. Ron's face appeared instead.

"What's up?" he asked, his red hair nearly indistinguishable from the flames surrounding it.

"I need Mariah to come and sit with Jamie. She's sleeping now, and I don't want to disturb Faren."

"Mariah's just fallen asleep as well," Ron said, glancing over his shoulder. "But I'll come if it's important."

"It is," she averred.

Ron stepped through the fire a moment later. The second he was through, Hermione threw Floo powder in and said "Harry's office."

"What is she on about?" Ron asked Harry, but Harry didn't have a chance to reply. Hermione had a death grip on his arm and was pulling him through the fire after her. Within seconds they were brushing soot from their clothes in Harry's office.

"I don't suppose I can dissuade you from this?" Harry asked, none too hopeful about her response.

Hermione didn't answer. She'd already pulled his office door open and was striding down the hallway.

^*^*^*^

 _Let it come, Mariah..._ The voices in her dreams were getting more insistent, more ever present. Her long conversation with Ginny and Hermione that afternoon had not served to dam the flood of her nightmare's voices. If anything, it seemed to have unstoppered them. From the moment her conscious mind fell into dream, they came. The misty figures stood closer around her, their voices as clear as their identities were vague. Each of them pressing her to "let it come"...whatever _it_ was.

"No!" she yelled at the voices, jerking herself out of her dream with a near violent jolt. With tears drying on her cheeks, Mariah searched for Ron, needing his warm arms to drive away the chill the nightmare had left on her skin. She scanned the room once, but knew immediately that Ron wasn't there.

 _Ron..._ she called out to him.

 __

 _It's okay. I'm at Harry's. They had to go to the school for a bit._

_

What's wrong?

_ _

I don't know, but it was important enough for them to go haring out of here like Dementors were on their arses.

_

The knock on the door interrupted their discussion. Mariah rose to answer it before the hammering awakened Rianne. She pulled open the door to find Draco standing there.

"Draco?" she asked, puzzled by his appearance.

"I need to talk to Ron," he said simply.

"Ron's not here," she said, opening the door to allow him entrance. "He's over at Harry and Hermione's for a bit. Do you want to wait?"

Draco paused, as if mentally weighing the pros and cons, before nodding once. "I'd better. He sent me an owl this morning, and, what I found out...well, I'd better hang around." He stepped across the threshold and walked towards the living area sofa.

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was his preoccupation with whatever had sent him to their flat so late at night. But when his foot caught the edge of the carpet and sent him tumbling forward, it ceased to matter.

Mariah watched him fall in the slow motion of dreams. Dreams that now seemed oddly familiar. Because as Draco tumbled forward, she realized with growing horror that she'd seen him do this before. Every nightmare she'd had since hearing Renae's vision had included this picture now unfolding before her.

As his head cracked against the corner of the table, all she knew, all she thought was...

 __

 _Ron...._

*^*^*^*^

Harry had tried several times to dissuade Hermione from beating a path through the Hogwarts corridors at eight in the evening. He'd tried appealing to her, pleading with her, and finally jogging two steps ahead of her and bracing his arms to stop her. That had finally worked.

"Harry..." she began slowly. Harry was very glad to see that some of the fury had abated from her eyes, but she still looked ready for battle.

"Just think this through, Mione," he whispered, in deference to the few students lingering in the corridors, clearly on their way back to their dormitories after an evening's studying. "What do you hope to accomplish?"

"You mean besides scratching her eyes out?" Harry was further gratified to hear a shade less venom in her voice as well.

"Yes, love. Are you planning on storming into her private quarters and searching her cauldrons for traces of Polyjuice Potion?"

The slight quiver at the corner of her mouth told him that she'd been planning exactly that. "When you put it that way, it sounds rather childish."

"A point I endeavored to make back home," Harry reminded her. "Speaking of which...shall we?" He indicated the way they'd just come with a wave of his hand.

"No," she said slowly. "As long as we're here, there is something I'd like to do."

"Broom closet?" he asked hopefully.

"No," she said, although she had an answering smile on hers now. "I'd like to at least see if she can look me in the eye after what she tried to do today. We can say it's on the pretext of her behavior earlier. That we wanted to see if there was anything we could do to help."

Harry didn't think much of this plan, remembering her earlier reaction to his offer of assistance, but as he'd managed to deter her from charging into Sara's room full of malice, he was willing to take what he could get. Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all.

In no time at all, they'd reached the door leading into Sara's private rooms in the Staff Tower. Harry was astounded to realize that it was the same room he and Hermione had shared before moving into their house over the summer. Hermione raised her hand to knock but paused just before her knuckles hit wood.

"Do you hear that?" she whispered.

Harry cocked his head to the side and realized he could hear something strange on the other side. The thick oak of the door kept him from being able to distinguish actual words, but he could definitely hear something. Voices, two different ones based on the inflections. Harry grabbed for the handle without a moment's hesitation when he heard the higher one scream. Polyjuice or no, he wasn't about to stand idly by while someone was in trouble.

The door opened with surprising ease. Harry let it swing on its hinges as he drew his wand, ready to defend Sara against whatever had made her scream. But when his brain deciphered the images his eyes were sending him, he was rendered utterly speechless.

 _Well,_ he thought as he heard Hermione gasp beside him, _I certainly didn't expect that._

*^*^*^*^*^

Ron felt Mariah's call more than he heard it. Sitting calmly in Harry's lounge and doing the _Daily Prophet_ crossword, he'd been utterly unprepared for the assault on his mind. Her voice rattled through his brain, bouncing around like an echo in a cave until he did the only thing he could think of to stop it. He sprinted into the nursery, grabbed a sleeping Jamie from her crib, and nearly leapt through the fire to get home.

When he found Mariah, she was on the floor with Draco's head in her lap. His eyes were open, but staring straight at the ceiling. There was a trickle of blood coming from his right nostril and his right ear, and there was a large welt near his right temple. He didn't appear to be moving...not even breathing.

"Mariah?" he asked, terrified of what she was about to say.

"He's dying, Ron. I think...I think he may already be dead."


	7. Chapter 7

The silence stretched as Harry and Hermione stood in the open doorway, trying desperately to think of something to say. Earlier that evening, Harry had thought "guess what happened to me at lunchtime" was not the right opening after having encountered a Polyjuiced Hermione. He found he was having the same difficulty forming an opening line now.

Somehow, "Sorry, please continue shagging" didn't seem like quite the right thing. But since the floor wasn't obliging in opening up and swallowing the pair of them, Harry felt he should probably say something.

"Er..." he began, hoping Hermione was having better luck with phrasing than he was.

"Er..." she echoed. _Apparently not_ , he thought.

Four sets of eyes clung together as the unreality of the situation began to sink in. The other man was the one to finally break the stalemate.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" Snape hissed at him.

*^*^*^*^

"He's dying. I think...I think he may already be dead."

Mariah's words hit Ron like a Bludger to the solar plexus. It didn't matter that his greatest desire through his formative years had been to hear news that this particular Malfoy had suffered bodily harm; now it was different. Now he counted this man not only as family, but as one of his closest friends. And what of Ginny? Morgan? He suddenly recalled the night, months ago, when Mariah had finally told him of Renae's visions. Of her seeing a redhead standing by a grave, lost to the world in a sea of grief. And now here he stood, helpless against the inevitable, transfixed by the scene before him. It was too awful to be truly happening.

His arms barely registered the baby he still held securely in his arms as he took in the unreality of it all. Mariah had Draco's head pillowed on her lap, and there was blood on Draco's face near his nose and ear. This just _couldn't_ be happening.

"Does he have a pulse?" he heard himself ask, although it didn't sound like his voice at all.

Mariah looked up at him, wild panic in her eyes. The question seemed to take a while to register. He was about to repeat himself when he saw her slide her hand down from Draco's temple to the juncture of his chin and neck. Her fingers probed the still warm flesh, checking for any movement.

 _It's faint._ He heard her voice in his head, but there was something else behind it. An almost dispassionate distance from the whole situation. Either that, or there was more going on in Mariah's mind than he could sense.

Mariah clung to the small faint thud against her index finger. She saw his chest rise and fall in slow and labored movements, but she knew, somehow, that these too would soon cease. She opened her mouth and tried to call to Ron. When no sound came out, she tried to connect with him mentally. She needed to tell him to contact Ginny. Ginny needed to be here. Draco's wife needed to be able to say her goodbyes. But for the first time in months, she couldn't reach Ron. Talking through their Bond had always seemed like second nature, and now when she needed to the most, she couldn't find her way to him. Her panic flared sharp and strong again

A quiet voice spoke instead, not Ron's, but her own. _He's not dead yet, Mariah, but he will be soon. Unless you do something._

 _What can I do?_

 _Listen to your dreams, let it come._

A thousand dizzying images danced before her mind's eye. The gray figures from her nightmares were standing around her, telling her to let it come, let it come. Their voices pounded her brain like a pestle to mortar. Each voice was louder than the next until the chorus of voices became one.

 __

 _Let it come, Let It Come, LET IT COME._

Mariah closed her eyes against the battering, her hands moving almost of their own accord back to Draco's temple.

The pain slammed into her without warning.

Mariah jolted at the sudden stab to her right temple. Once, in childhood, she'd seen a Muggle magician pierce a balloon with a long needle. Mariah thought that she now knew how the balloon had felt. It was a slow, slicing pain, growing more intense as the seconds ticked past. Her head was on fire with it; any moment now, her skull would split in two from the pressure building in her brain. She felt blood begin to trickle down her own right nostril and from her right ear. Her eyes rolled back into her head as the onslaught continued.

Beneath the pain, though, there were memories. Hermione had told her what it had been like to suddenly remember a forgotten past. Mariah now knew what she meant. Pictures flew past her closed eyes, showing her the conclusions she'd refused to let herself draw.

She saw Ginny wincing in pain from a paper cut, only to have the wound disappear seconds later.

She heard Rianne fussing, a chubby fist shoved into her mouth, only to have her Mum massage the pain away.

She saw Ron run to thrust a scalded hand under the cold water tap in their kitchen, only to have not so much as a reddening of his skin when he dried it off.

She heard Sibyll's voice telling her how Allison had searched for a Bond whose genes would ensure her of a strong Diviner child. And she knew the improbability of that kind of intensive search resulting in a child with only a weak Persuading ability.

 _That's not all you_ can _do, Mariah, it's all you've_ allowed _yourself to do._

Then a new image flashed before her eyes as her mind finally let down its guard enough to accept that statement. She saw Ginny standing at a newly dug grave. And she knew with a sudden clarity that hacked its way through the pain that she could keep that image from becoming reality.

She was vaguely aware of Ron's voice calling her name, of Jamie protesting at her rude awakening, but both were lost in the tidal surge of pain and the realization that she could to stop it. Though her eyes were closed, she could still see Draco, could feel his skin beneath her fingers. He felt cold. The skin near his temple, however, was hot. She winced inwardly from the searing heat of it. Mariah nearly pulled her fingers away, but knew instinctively not to break contact. This was where the damage was, this was where she needed to be. Mariah focused her mind on that spot, pulled all the energy within her and poured it through her fingertips and into Draco. Gradually, the pain in her head began to lessen and the blistering heat of his temple began to cool. But was it growing _too_ cold? She saw a starburst of color in front of her closed eyes, and then she knew no more.

Ron, having just calmed Jamie back to sleep on his shoulder, heard his fiancée whimper softly, then heard her sigh, almost as if she was expelling all of the breath in her lungs. Heart in his throat, he turned to face Mariah just in time to see her crumple to the floor beside his still unmoving brother-in-law.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

 _The desk is blocking most of it,_ Harry thought to himself, still struggling to process the scene in front of him. Sara was laid out across a maple desk, robes pulled to the side haphazardly; Snape was positioned in front of her, trousers around his ankles and his own robes lying in a puddle at his feet. Harry slammed his eyes shut after a second glimpse at the man's stark white backside.

Hermione came to her senses before Harry and grabbed his arm, turning him around to face the wall opposite the door. To give them privacy, he assumed, as she made no move towards the hallway. He heard the rustle of clothing and a whispered conversation behind him. After what seemed way too short a time, he felt Snape's bony fingers dig into his shoulder and pull him into the room and then heard the slam of the oak door behind him.

"I trust that your reasons for interrupting are to bring news of such dire import that an owl simply would not suffice."

Harry wasn't sure about Hermione, but he hadn't felt this uneasy in Snape's presence since he'd been facing the man in class. _All that's missing is the cauldron,_ Harry thought, his brain obviously still misfiring from seeing Snape in the buff because based on the fire spitting from the other man's eyes, this was no time for humor. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione struggling for words and knew he'd have to be the one to end their silence.

"We were worried about Sara," he offered. It sounded lame even to his ears and by the look on Snape's face, the Potions master wasn't buying it, either.

"Severus."

All heads turned toward Sara. While Snape had been reducing Harry and Hermione to feeling very much like naughty schoolchildren, Sara had restored her hair and clothing to normal and had walked over to join them. The calm of her voice and the touch of her hand to his arm seemed to drain the malice out of Snape's eyes. Eyes, Harry realized with a shock, now softened with an emotion he didn't think the man capable of. Unless he missed his guess, he was face to face with a Snape deeply in love.

The thought went against everything Harry had ever thought possible. But the evidence was right there for the world to see.

Snape nodded to Sara and stepped back to allow her to join them.

"I suppose you really were worried about me?" Sara said after a brief silence in which they all continued to stare at one another. Her voice carried too much sarcasm for her question to be taken at face value, though.

"After a fashion," Hermione admitted.

"I suppose someone needs to start from the beginning," Harry said, watching as Sara and Snape met each other's eyes. He supposed this is what it looked like when he and Hermione did the same.

"No, Harry," his wife said from beside him, "we need to apologize profusely and leave."

Harry felt his inner toddler rise up and dig in its heels. Leave? How could they leave? He had about a thousand questions.

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Granger," Snape hissed. Harry wasn't sure if his icy tone was due to the intrusion or the timing of said intrusion. Harry remembered all too well the pain of unspent passion and felt a momentary pang of male solidarity with Snape.

"Wait," Sara said as Harry and Hermione turned to leave the room. When they faced her again, they saw she had one hand to the bridge of her nose and was rubbing as if to cure a sudden headache. "I think I do owe them at least a few answers."

"You owe them nothing, Sara," Snape spat, "they're the ones that barged in here without even the courtesy of knocking."

"The door was unlocked," Harry protested weakly.

"It most certainly was not," Snape argued. "I locked it myself."

"It's probably still charmed to recognize our hands," Hermione interjected.

Sara's head whipped towards her, realization dawning. "You charmed the doors?"

"When we first took these quarters," Hermione verified, meeting Sara's gaze without faltering. "I was so wrapped up in my work on the counter, and Harry was wrapped up in his own battles...well, it just seemed like one less thing to worry about. I should have told you, Sara, but I didn't realize until tonight that you were living in this room."

"That is completely beside the point," Snape growled. "You had no reason to barge in here..."

"Severus, they _did_ have a reason. Otherwise, they wouldn't be here. And I must admit to being more than a bit curious about what brought them here tonight."

"You heard her," Snape turned his glare back to them. "Explain yourselves."

"First of all, _Severus_ ," Harry said sharply, awkward situation or not, he wasn't going to cower under that tone a moment longer, "we are no longer your students."

"Stop it, the pair of you," Hermione intoned, placing a hand on Harry's arm and looking at Snape. "Resorting to old habits is going to get us exactly nowhere. Perhaps you two could take your testosterone elsewhere so Sara and I can have a conversation?"

"Well put, Hermione," Sara said, offering Hermione a tentative smile. Hermione answered it in kind and both shot glances at the men beside them. When Harry and Snape continued to stare daggers at one another, Hermione and Sara shared a commiserating look. Hermione knew in that moment that whatever else had been going on in the Transfiguration teacher's personal life, ingesting Polyjuice Potion and snogging Harry had not been involved.

It took Hermione the better part of twenty minutes to explain what had brought them to Sara's door that evening. Harry was eternally grateful that she had taken up the narrative. Her ordered, logical mind recounted their growing suspicions but countered them with a subtlety only she could muster. Harry made the occasional comment, adding his impression of the few conversations he'd had with Sara. The only pause in her recitation came when Snape sat up a bit straighter at the mention of Polyjuice potion.

"Well, I can see why you'd be suspicious," Sara said, and by her tone Harry knew that she was serious. "I haven't exactly been acting like a well adjusted individual. Especially around the pair of you."

"You had your reasons for that, love."

Harry's insides gave a lurch at hearing Snape use a pet name.

"Yes, I did. But I can see that, in hindsight, I've let my own insecurities fester to such a point that Harry thought I was stalking him, Severus. This conversation should have taken place months ago." Sara laid a hand on his and Harry saw the other man twine his fingers with hers. "I suppose it started out as jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. I was insanely jealous of the relationship you have with Minerva. Every time I turned around, she was focused on you. That jealousy ate at me every time I saw you."

Harry could understand her position, to a point. But something didn't add up. "But that's not all that's been bothering you," he prodded.

"No, it's not," she agreed.

Harry was surprised to see a small smile play across her features and a blush creep onto her cheeks.

"That one instance you mentioned, when you overheard me talking about ending a spell," and at this, she grinned even wider. "I was talking about the spell a certain Potions master seemed to have cast on me."

As long as Harry lived, he would never forget the sight of Severus Snape blushing. Merlin knew he'd seen the man's face suffuse with anger often enough, but the red tinge now staining his cheeks was decidedly different. It took Harry a second to realize that there was also a small smile playing around his mouth.

"You seem happy enough about that spell now," Hermione noted, glancing at their joined hands.

"It's a hard fought for happiness," Snape interjected.

"That's true enough," Sara sighed, turning to look deeply into his face.

Harry snuck a glance at Hermione and knew she was teeming with questions just as he was. If they were still students, he hadn't a doubt that her hand would already be in the air. Snape and Sara, however, seemed to have forgotten they were even there. He saw Snape's fingers give Sara's hand a squeeze and realized it was past time for them to go.

"Hermione?" he whispered, even though he was pretty sure the other couple wouldn't have taken notice if he'd shouted it. "I think it's time we headed home."

Hermione's gaze seemed fixated on the joined hands and the longing gazes of Snape and Sara, but she stood after some not-so-subtle prompting from Harry.

"We're sorry to have disturbed your evening," Harry said awkwardly. Snape waved him off with his free hand without even turning to face them.

Once the door had closed behind them, they heard the muffled sound of Sara's laughter and the deep rumble that could only be Snape's. He didn't know the man knew _how_ to laugh and said so to Hermione.

"Well, it certainly explains a lot of the other differences we've seen in Snape lately."

"That it does," Harry said, thinking about the way Snape's relaxed demeanor had puzzled him whenever he'd crossed paths with his normally solemn colleague.

"And I'll bet Sara's the one that told Snape about Jamie's teething problems. I'd wondered how he knew to bring you that gel." Hermione paused and Harry could almost see the curiosity swimming around his wife. "But I wonder how they ever got together?"

"I know you do. And I know that you were dying to ask, but I don't think that Sara's about to fall into confidence with you about something so personal. Especially after we all but accused her of stalking me."

"I know," Hermione said, and he could hear the unspoken _but the curiosity's killing me_ in her voice.

They walked in silence for a while, Harry's arm around her waist as they made the long journey back to his office. Harry only had one problem. Every time he closed his eyes to blink, the image of the scene they'd interrupted flowed back into his mind.

"Harry? What is it?" Hermione asked when he stopped to take off his glasses once they'd reached his office.

"Do we have any bleach?" Harry asked.

"Why?"

"Because I'm wondering if I could use it to remove the sight of Snape's pale backside from my memory."

Hermione punched his arm with a grin. "I didn't see that. My view was blocked by the desk."

"Lucky you," Harry said, grinning back as he pushed open the door.

Hermione stopped with a gasp. Harry's office had been ransacked.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Ginny Malfoy had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Earlier that evening, Draco had Apparated into the kitchen, kissed her and Morgan briefly, then disappeared into his small home office clutching a piece of parchment. Knowing that his work with the Ministry frequently involved things he couldn't discuss at home, Ginny hadn't asked him what was wrong. She'd been tempted when he emerged from the office two hours later, but hadn't. She knew that he'd tell her when, and if, he could. If it was something she needed to know.

The last thing she'd expected had been for him to walk into their bedroom, cloak on, to tell her that he was walking over to Ron's for a bit. She'd tried repeatedly to tell herself that there was no need to be worried, but she'd looked too closely into his eyes. She knew him too well to ask for what he wouldn't tell her, but that didn't stop her from wondering, worrying.

She'd tried to immerse herself in the final preparations for Ron's wedding, but it hadn't worked. The quiet of the house left her mind too open, giving free reign to her imagination and tonight that imagination was fertile. As she pored over seating charts and RSVPs, her mind kept turning back to the look on his face, his furtive trip to Ron's flat. At the same time, she kept feeling a strange prickling at the back of her neck and her chest felt heavy with dread.

Pushing aside the parchments, Ginny lay back on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to quell the sense of panic that was flooding her. Her mind filled with images of her husband. The way his eyes changed from crystal to steel depending on what he was feeling, the way his arms felt around her, the silkiness of his hair as she thread her fingers through it. And then he was there, standing in front of her, a bright corona surrounding him and a look of profound sadness on his face.

"Goodbye," he said softly, a tear spilling down his pale cheek.

Ginny jerked as if she'd been slapped, her arms reaching for him. He wasn't there. His name caught in her throat as she fled from the bedroom, not even cognizant of the tears spilling down her own cheeks. She rushed into Morgan's nursery and gathered the sleeping baby close to her and wrapped him in the blanket Molly had quilted for him. Heart pounding in her chest, Ginny rushed down the stairs and out the front door towards Ron's flat.

*^*^*^*^*^

Harry and Hermione stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the chaos that used to be his somewhat sloppy office. True, filing student's papers had never really been his favorite thing to do. He tended to let things pile up on his desk until they threatened to avalanche onto the floor. But the state of his office now...poor filing skills had nothing to do with this.

His desk was overturned, books had been torn to shreds and the pieces littered the floor. The windows had been smashed outward. A quick glance out of the now permanently open windows showed him that his desk chair had been hurled through at least one of them. The others appeared to have been taken out by the books that weren't carpeting his floor.

The things that hit him the hardest, though, were the pictures and his quill. Just a few days ago, he'd put framed pictures of Hermione and Jamie on his desk. Now, those picture frames lay in pieces on the floor, dirt smudging the now empty pictures, the photographic Hermione and Jamie having left the wizard photos, he supposed, when they'd seen what was happening. _If only they could tell me who did this when they returned,_ he thought idly.

The quill was the one Hermione had given him for Christmas in their second year. It had been bent in two and was lying beneath a pile of glass.

"Harry..." Hermione's voice sounded small and distant. He turned to face her, the photo fluttering out of his hand as he saw what had captured her attention.

In big red letters across the wall behind his desk, someone had left a calling card.

BELOVED, YOU WILL BE MINE

Harry heard Hermione gasp again and whipped around, wand already out. But it wasn't because she had seen anyone. She was holding a ceramic bowl; one that had once held his supply of Floo Powder.

"Jamie..." they said in unison.

Hermione gathered up as much of the spilt powder as she could, unmindful of the shards that cut into her fingers, threw it into the fireplace and shouted "Home".

Harry tried to grab her arm and slow her down when they first set foot in their house, but she was off like a shot. He knew that Jamie was perfectly fine, no matter what the state of his office. Ron wouldn't let anyone harm his daughter. Hermione, however, wrenched her arm from his grip the moment they cleared the mantle and ran to their daughter's nursery.

He'd fully expected Ron to be lying on the sofa when they returned, and was a little disconcerted to find the sofa a Weasley free area. _Probably stretched out on our bed_ , he told himself, in spite of the chill spilling down his back. Unfastening his robes, Harry walked to the hall closet and moved to open the cupboard. That's when he felt the breeze. Brow furrowed, he followed the chilly air into the kitchen. The window by the kitchen door had been smashed from the outside, littering their floor with shards of glass. Harry was just registering the damage in front of him when he heard Hermione's scream.

Harry didn't even bother with the stairs. He Apparated to her side before he drew his next breath and found her staring over an empty crib, her hands over her face.

"She's gone, Harry."

"She's with Ron, love," Harry said, trying to soothe her and, to some degree, himself. "Mariah probably needed help with something and he took her over there."

"I'm going over there," Hermione said, using her hands to wipe the tears from her face.

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to tell Hermione about the kitchen window, but he had to admit to a slight stuttering in his own chest that he knew wouldn't stop until he saw his daughter. Logically, he knew that Jamie was fine. But the father in him wanted his little girl.

"Right," Harry said, and together, they Disapparated.

*^*^*^*^*^

"Mariah!"

Ron screamed his fiancée's name as she hit the floor and took one step towards her. Jamie, still asleep on his shoulder, fussed slightly in his arms. Even though every fiber of his being was straining towards Mariah, Ron made himself carry Jamie to Rianne's crib and lay her down gently before running back out into the living room.

He'd just reached the unconscious pair when his front door slammed open. His sister stood in the threshold, red hair in wild disarray and Morgan clutched to her chest. Her eyes scanned the room quickly before coming to rest on Draco. With a small sob, Ginny crossed to him and dropped to her knees beside her husband. Ron stepped forward quickly to take Morgan from her. Once he'd placed the baby in the crib with the others, taking a second to enlarge it magically, he sprinted back into the living room.

Ginny had Draco's hand in hers and was crying quietly. "Don't you dare say goodbye to me, Draco Malfoy," she said, which confused Ron utterly. Draco hadn't said a word as far as he knew.

Ron dropped to his own knees and moved to reach for Mariah's hand. He needed to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin. He suddenly remembered watching over her when she'd first arrived in this flat, and how she'd been so still and silent as she recovered. And she _had_ recovered, he told himself. A sudden fear burst to life within him as he realized the only sounds in the room were Ginny's muffled sobs next to him. The long exhale of breath had been the last thing he'd heard from Mariah. Ron reached for her wrist with a shaking hand, but a faint, feeble voice in his head said _don't break the connection._

Ron's heart ceased its slow, dreading thud in his chest and increased to a staccato beat. She was still alive.

Still reeling from relief, Ron tried to pull Ginny away from her husband, but she kept shrugging him off. Her own hands were shaking as she wiped the blood from his upper lip and cheek. Ron took Mariah's faint warning to heart and didn't want Ginny to inadvertently do something that would separate Mariah from Draco.

He'd just tightened his hands on her shoulders again, and she'd just batted his hands away again, when Draco opened his eyes.

"Draco?" Ginny said in a quiet, almost fearful, voice.

"Red?" Draco muttered, sounding like he was talking through a pillow.

Ginny flung herself onto her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck and dissolving into sobs. Before Ron could attempt to help Draco from being smothered by his sister, Ron heard Mariah's voice wince in pain.

"Angel?" Ron said, dropping to her side in an instant, taking her face in his hands and peering into her eyes. "What just happened?"

"Bedroom," she whispered. "Help me."

Confused, Ron helped her to her feet, shocked and frightened at how weak she seemed. There was a slight _pop_ behind him. Ron turned to see Harry and Hermione standing in the open doorway, Hermione looking frantic. Being a parent, and having been in a similar situation himself, Ron recognized the "where's my baby?" look immediately.

"Jamie's in Rianne's crib," he called over his shoulder as he aided Mariah into the other room. "I'll be right back out."

 _Angel?_ Ron asked her once they were in the darkened bedroom. _What can I do?_

 _Sleep, Ron. I need sleep. And I need to be alone._

She was laying on their bed a second later, Ron pulling the comforter over her and tucking her in. _What just happened? I thought Draco was dead there for a second._

 _There for a second, he was,_ Mariah said cryptically before turning her back on him. Then her mind was closed off to him completely. Ever since she'd come back into his life, he'd always been able to get some sense of her. Now, it felt like she wasn't even there. His questions bounced from her mind back to his like Ever-Bashing Boomerangs.

Much as he wanted to stay here with her, Ron slowly backed from the door and closed it softly behind him. When he turned, he found four pairs of eyes staring at him. Ron took a deep breath and wished he knew what to tell them.

Draco was no longer on the floor. Someone, probably Harry, had helped the man to the sofa. Ginny was plastered to his side as if he'd fly away if she let go, and Harry and Hermione were standing just behind them.

"Ron?" Draco said, his voice still a quiver of weakness. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Ron answered. "I was at Harry and Hermione's and Mariah called to me. I grabbed Jamie and came straight here. When I arrived, Mariah had your head on her lap and told me she thought you were dead."

Ginny gasped and squeezed her husband's arm so tightly her knuckles went as white as her face. "I was at home..." Ginny's voice broke on a sob, but she continued. "I think I'd fallen asleep...I saw you...you said goodbye to me..." And then Ginny could say no more as spasms of grief wracked her body.

Draco pried her fingers from his arm, then placed that arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Easy, Red," Draco said into her hair. "I'm okay. I feel like I've just been run over by the Knight Bus, but I'm fine."

Hermione came around the sofa and took Ron's hands. "Is Mariah okay?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder to the closed bedroom door.

"I wish I knew, Hermione," Ron said. "She's sleeping now. I'm sorry for giving you a scare, but I didn't have time to leave a note."

"Don't give it another thought," Hermione said at once.

"Do you remember anything?" Harry asked Draco, coming from around the back of the sofa to face him.

"I came over here to tell Ron something." Draco's face twisted into a frown as he tried to remember. "Can't think of what at the moment, dammit. But I think I tripped. I remember falling--" he stopped to press a kiss to Ginny's head as she whimpered again. "Then I woke up on the floor."

"Mariah didn't tell you anything, Ron?" Ginny sniffled, looking towards her older brother with streaming eyes.

Ron paused. His eyes cut to Harry and Hermione, to Ginny and Draco, and he remembered promising Mariah that he would keep her secrets. Telling her that she could trust him. Whatever had occurred tonight, whatever she had meant by Draco being dead for a moment, it was Mariah's decision to tell or not to tell. He loved her too much not to respect that. "No, Ginny. She collapsed into bed the moment I helped her lay down."

 __

 _Ron..._

It had been over a year since he'd heard her voice that delicate and distant, when she'd still been imprisoned by her brother and had been trying to reach him in a desperate attempt to escape.

 __

 _Angel? What? Do you need--?_

Mariah cut him off. _Tell him this..._

Ron knew his eyes widened so much as she relayed her story that they were in danger of leaving his head entirely. A part of him couldn't believe what she was telling him, but it was a very small part. He'd seen Mariah do so many things he couldn't explain - things she hadn't even seemed to notice - that he couldn't discount her words.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked him, concern evident in her raised voice. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Ron soothed, taking her hand and squeezing it. "But she wanted to tell me a bit of what happened. Draco," he said, now turning to his brother-in-law, "it seems you did trip. And then you cracked your head against the table. You lost consciousness immediately, and Mariah saw blood at your nose and ear and knew you'd caused damage to your brain. And..." Ron took in a deep breath, "and somehow she seems to have healed that damage."

Silence greeted Ron's explanation. They each glanced at the other in turn, but no one doubted for a moment the veracity of Ron's statement. How could they? The proof was in the residual pink stains under Draco's nose and ear. And the fact that he was still breathing.

"I didn't know Mariah was a Healer," Hermione said in soft wonder.

"I don't think she did either," Ron said truthfully. Then he stunned them all when the ghost of a grin passed across his face.

"Something funny?" Harry asked.

"Not funny, no. Just something finally making sense," Ron said, but the traces of his smile lingered in his eyes. "You all know that Mariah's been having trouble sleeping," he paused as they all nodded. "I think she was having as much difficulty accepting that she actually _has_ Diviner abilities as you did remembering your past, Hermione. Several times I've heard her calling out 'No' or 'I won't' in her sleep. Based on her feelings toward her mother and, by extension, all Diviners, she wouldn't let herself accept it."

"And Renae's predictions," Hermione added. "When she heard those, she knew she might need those abilities she'd been denying she had."

"Exactly."

"Ron," Draco said, and no one was surprised to hear his voice crack with emotion, "I...I don't...my life...." He ran a shaking hand over his face and turned his steel gray eyes toward Ron. Then he stood and walked shakily toward his brother-in-law. "Every day from this one...it's a gift she's given me. Thank her for me," Draco said quietly, his voice so thick Ron could barely make out the words.

They stood face to face, the Weasley and the Malfoy, and embraced. "Thank her by making the most of the life you've begun with my sister, Draco," Ron whispered.

"Count on it," Draco whispered back.

Ron was grateful that the emotion clogging his throat seemed to have dissipated. He didn't know how he would handle Draco crying in his arms.

When they finally broke apart, Draco saw Ginny and Hermione in tears and Harry looking like he'd like to be. "Don't worry, Potter. My heart still belongs to you."

His remark had the reaction he'd hoped for and a tension easing laughter filled the air. He was serious about what he'd said earlier and he'd show it the only way he could think of; he'd be sending Mariah flowers every day for the rest of his life. On cautious, unstable legs, he moved closer to the door before he collapsed outright. Ginny nodded and went to collect Morgan from Rianne's nursery. He kissed his son on the top of his head as he slept and turned toward the door with a wink to Ginny. Knowing their son's immense hatred of Floo, Ginny pulled her cloak back over them both and together the three of them walked home.

An air of unease settled over the remaining four people. After Ron closed the door behind his sister, he settled himself onto the couch and stared at the closed bedroom door. Harry and Hermione had a brief, silent discussion on whether or not to stay with him, but in the end decided to take Jamie home and check on Ron and Mariah the following day.

*^*^*^*

By the time Ginny had put Morgan back into his crib, Draco was fast asleep on top of their bed. She undressed him, careful not to wake him, disrobed herself and curled into him. It wasn't the warmth of his body that sent her back into tears; it was his scent. Not a cologne or aftershave - something any wizard could buy - it was the distinct fragrance that was his and his alone. The scent he generated just by being alive. Alive...

Ginny's sobs redoubled. He must have heard her in the depths of his sleep because his arm snaked around her and pulled her close. "Shhh, Red," he mumbled.

After what felt like hours, Ginny finally succumbed to sleep, wrapped in his arms.

*^*^*^*^

Harry waited until they'd returned Jamie to her crib before mentioning the broken glass in their kitchen. A part of him wondered if he shouldn't just repair the damage and keep mum on the whole thing. The rest of him knew she'd flay him alive if she ever found out he'd kept it from her.

"Hand me the quilt," Hermione said quietly. She was facing their daughter and holding a hand out behind her. Harry glanced right and left, but didn't see it anywhere. Mind still on the wreck of his office and the broken glass downstairs, Harry walked to the closet, pulled a blanket off the shelf and handed it to her.

"Not this one," Hermione said, handing it back. "Her favorite. The one Mum sent from Ireland."

"I don't see it here," Harry said, mind still focused on other things.

Sighing in her husbands-are-useless tone, she turned and scanned the room. "Honestly, Harry. If it doesn't leap out at you..." She stopped and looked up at him. "It's not here."

"Which is precisely what I just told you," Harry snapped. "Ron probably wrapped her in it when he took her to his flat."

Hermione fixed him with a glare that seemed to shoot straight through to his bone marrow. "What's happened?"

Harry sighed. Sometimes it was both blessing and curse to have a partner that could see through you like glass. He should have known he'd never be able to hide it from her. "It's the kitchen," Harry said, leading her from Jamie's room and toward the stairs. "Someone's smashed in the glass window by the back door."

"And no bets as to who," Hermione sighed resignedly, following him downstairs to survey the damage.

"Not unless you like losing money," Harry said in a lame attempt to lessen the horrible pit growing in his stomach. This was getting serious. Whoever this witch was, she'd invaded his home. The part that was the hardest to swallow was that there didn't seem to be a damned thing he could do to stop her. Not until he knew who she was.

Hermione didn't make a sound as she inspected the glass on the kitchen floor. She pored over every shard of glass as though the pieces could tell her what had happened. Harry fought the urge to ask her what she was doing as she walked from the kitchen to the living room, then walked back in pointing her wand at the floor.

"Well, that answers that," Hermione said, fixing the window with a lazy swish of her wand and a muttered _Reparo._

"What answers what?" Harry asked, wishing not for the first time that he could follow the giant leaps she tended to take - always leaving the rest of them behind wondering what was going on.

"There was a trail of glass slivers from the kitchen to the fireplace. I used a detection spell I learned when I was at the Auror's Institute and there was a clear trail of glass, a trail of footprints. Whoever broke that window, walked straight to our fireplace. The Floo powder jar was moved." She stared at Harry, obviously waiting for him to finish. "Isn't it obvious? She broke in and used our fire to get to your office. She was here, Harry. She was in our house."

Harry stared at his wife, stunned. Their eyes met over the kitchen table and Harry saw a shiver pass over her body. The same shiver he now felt coursing down his spine. Harry's from fear, Hermione's from anger. Her ire was nearly shooting off her in waves at the sanctity of their home having been breached. She was muttering under her breath as she moved around the room, replacing the Floo container on the mantle and checking to see if anything else was missing. He caught the words "bitch" and "how dare she?"

While his wife fumed, Harry thought about the last time he'd used Floo to go from home to school. It had been just two days ago. When he arrived, he was right behind his desk and the first things he saw when he walked into his office were the frames on his desk. The pictures must have sent whoever it was into her rage against his office. The pictures of Hermione and Jamie.

Another chill ran down his spine, this one accompanied by full color pictures of one or both of them hurt...or worse. He'd been too close to death tonight not to be affected. From what Mariah had told them earlier, Renae had seen as much in this black shadow thing and tonight, Draco had nearly died. He wanted Hermione out of harm's way and he wanted her there tonight. A few letters were one thing. This witch was closing in; she was getting violent. And he was getting his girls as far away from that violence as he could.

"I want you to go to your Mum's," Harry said abruptly.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said, casually removing her cloak and hanging it in the hall closet. Her voice was too calm, too serene for him to think she really hadn't heard him. She was asking him to repeat himself because she had clearly not believed her own ears.

"You heard me," Harry said. He didn't really expect to win this argument, but he knew he'd never rest unless he'd given it a go.

"Right. I'll just pack up my things and leave town with my tail between my legs, shall I?" Hermione slammed the closet door, as if to further punctuate her sarcastic reply.

"Hermione..." Harry drew her name out.

"Save it, Harry. I'm not leaving. You can just accept it now or we can fight for hours and accept it afterwards. Your choice."

Harry discarded the idea of raising this to a shouting match. In a verbal battle, Hermione would win, hands down. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to think of anything he could to convince her that she might just be in danger, too. He walked over to her, took her hands and led her to the sofa.

"Now it's you that's not understanding, Hermione," Harry sighed. "Just a few hours ago, I was positive I knew who was behind this - that I knew who to watch. Now, I'm back to square one and apart from walking around Hogsmeade with a badge on my chest that says 'Are you my beloved?', I haven't a clue as to how to find out who this witch is. To cap it all, I'm terrified that she'll come after you and Jamie."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, curling into his side. She'd giggled a bit at his mention of a badge, but sobered up again once he'd told her what he feared. "It's you she's fixated on. I doubt she even notices Jamie and me." Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay, she notices us, but only peripherally. And if she tries to come near us..." Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "I'm known as something of a capable witch. I believe I can handle her."

Harry smiled then, knowing that much at least was true. Merlin help the person that ever tried to get to him or Jamie through Hermione. It would probably take ages to find all the pieces once she was finished.

"There is one thing I will do, Harry," Hermione said, and Harry could hear the anger in her voice.

"What?" He shifted on the sofa until they were face to face.

"I'm going to bring Jamie to school with me for the time being."

Harry couldn't help his jaw from dropping. "You're what?"

"I'm sure as hell not leaving, but I'm also not going to leave Jamie with Faren. I know you don't believe she has anything to do with this, Harry, and maybe you're right, but her behavior has been getting more and more odd as time passes. Stalker or not, something is up with her."

Harry paused to consider the young witch they'd entrusted with their daughter's care. She was efficient, caring, loving. That Jamie adored her was obvious any time the two were together. But he couldn't deny that her actions of late had definitely proven that she was preoccupied about...something. Perhaps Hermione had a point.

*^*^*^*^*^

After a night of broken sleep, Harry and Hermione made their way slowly downstairs, a very cranky Jamie in her arms. Faren was walking through the front door just as Hermione reached the bottom step. She passed Jamie to Harry and motioned for him to take her into the kitchen. Harry knew why immediately. Jamie was already reaching her chubby arms out for Faren.

"Faren," Hermione said in greeting. Harry knew she was trying to sound just like every other morning, but he heard the suspicion in her voice. By the look on the nanny's face, so did Faren. Her face showed something else as well. There were shadows beneath her eyes that he hadn't noticed before...and something that looked like utter delight brightening her eyes. That odd mixture sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

He made his way slowly towards the kitchen, pausing just inside to listen. From the mirror over the back wall of the living room, he could see everything going on in the entryway.

"Good morning, Hermione," Faren said, her voice nearly crackling with happiness about something.

"I need to discuss something with you."

The humor faded from her face almost immediately. Faren stopped in the process of removing her cloak and crossed her arms in front of her chest defiantly. "What?"

"I've decided to take Jamie into school with me for the next few days. Something happened last night to some dear friends of ours that have made me realize I would regret not spending more time with my daughter should anything happen to me."

Harry knew Hermione had been trying to think of a plausible excuse to relieve Faren of her duties, and he thought she'd done a good job of it. But something in Faren's countenance told him the nanny didn't think much of Hermione's reasoning.

"I see," she said flatly, arms still crossed and fingers tightening as they gripped her own elbows. "And what about her morning walk? And playtime? And her naps? How are you going to manage all of that while you're teaching?"

"I'll manage just fine." Hermione tried to smile as she said it, but to Harry's eyes it came out as looking more like a scowl.

"And what do _you_ think of this?" Faren asked, turning towards Harry's reflection in the mirror. He didn't have a chance to answer before she spoke again. "Never mind. I can see for myself. You'll go along with it because she wants it and never mind the repercussions. Same old story."

"I don't think I like your tone," Hermione snapped, her hackles rising.

"I don't think I care," Faren spat back. Without another word, Faren turned and left the house, slamming the front door behind her.

"Well, that went well," Harry said lightly, returning to her side. But he had to admit, even if it was only to himself, that Hermione might just have a point about their nanny.

It hadn't taken them long to gather up what Jamie would need for a day at Hogwarts: a few changes of clothes, toys, nappies, and snacks. In deference to the cold day, they'd gone to the school via Floo. When they stepped through the fire, Harry saw that his office was neat and ordered again, the house elves having undoubtedly scoured the place from ceiling to cold stone floor overnight. His books were back on their shelves, desk chair neatly in place behind his desk. His ancient eagle feather quill in its holder. It was still bent, but the plumage was as pristine as the day he'd unwrapped it.

Hermione bustled out of his classroom with a quick peck on the cheek. He knew she wanted to get Jamie settled into her own office before her students arrived, so he didn't try and forestall her with a post-mortem about the scene with Faren this morning. That, he guessed, would have to wait until dinner tonight.

It wasn't until late into his final class that day that Harry remembered something. Something that might provide a further insight into Faren's state of mind. He waited until his seventh years were packing up their bags to call her back to his office.

"Annika," he said quietly, "may I have a word?"

"Of course, Professor," she said, a quizzical look crossing her face.

Harry nodded and walked back into his office. She followed a moment later, bag slung across her chest, arms crossed in front of her. "Have a seat," Harry indicated the chair opposite his desk.

"You spend a lot of time with Faren, don't you?" Harry asked straight away, before she'd even taken her seat.

"I used to," she responded, picking at a small bit of lint on her robes. "I thought we were becoming friends, but she slowly started to distance herself from me a few months ago. I haven't heard from her in ages. To be honest, she was getting a little weird. She was always asking me about school legends. Yours and Professor Granger's and Mr. Weasley's in particular." Annika paused and looked up at him. "Does this have anything to do with Professor Granger bringing the baby to school today?"

"Not at all," Harry lied convincingly, he hoped. "Jamie wasn't feeling well this morning and Hermione didn't want to leave her."

"Poor kid," Annika sympathized. "Why did you want to know about Faren?"

"It's nothing really," Harry said, in a would-be casual voice. "She's just been looking a little harassed lately and I wondered if you might know why. If there might be something we could do to help her."

"I haven't a clue, Professor. Sorry."

Harry smiled to show her that it was no big deal while his insides twisted at having lost the one lead he thought he had.

Annika rose to leave the office, pausing as she slung her bag back across her chest. "What happened to your quill?"

"Some nutter ground it under her foot," Harry muttered under his breath before he could catch himself.

"Pardon me?" she said, her brow furrowed.

"Nothing, Annika," Harry said, cursing himself for saying that out loud. By the look of her, Harry had caught a break. She didn't appear to have heard him. "It was an accident," he explained, "dropped it and then stepped on it by mistake."

"What a shame," she said. She waited in silence for a moment before speaking again. "Was there anything else?"

"No. You can head on down to dinner," he said, watching her go. Harry used his wand to close the door behind her and dropped his head into his hands when he knew he was alone.

"Bloody hell," he said quietly, picking up the quill and fingering the broken spine. Annika hadn't been as helpful as he'd hoped, but she had said something that stirred his curiosity. Why had Faren been asking about his, Hermione's and Ron's time at Hogwarts?

^*^*^*^*^*^

For Ron, the week proceeding what he now termed "The Event" was a vague mess of baby care, shop tending, and worrying about Mariah. He knew that things were not going well with Harry's little problem. Ginny had told him just the previous evening that the hate mail was continuing to come, sometimes several times a day. Ron knew that there were only two reasons why Harry hadn't packed Hermione and Jamie off to the Grangers: a) Hermione wouldn't go unless placed under a body binding curse and kept unconscious and b) so far the letters had been aimed at Harry. As far as he knew, Hermione's name hadn't been mentioned once in this latest barrage, not even in a side reference.

The part that was keeping everyone anxious was that after The Event, the letters had changed drastically in tone. He had no idea what had gone on that day, what had sent Harry and Hermione rushing back to Hogwarts; he still hadn't had a chance to ask them. But it was apparently enough to infuriate the mysterious witch fixated on Harry. Gone was the simpering, loving woman. In her place was a vindictive and increasingly hostile witch bent on convincing Harry he loved her and no other.

And to cap it all, Faren seemed to have disappeared. Either that or she was holed up in her flat and not planning on emerging any time soon. All attempts to open the door had proven fruitless. He hadn't used his father's suggestion yet, a large sharp axe, but he was getting close.

He wondered, on the few spare moments that he had for such things, if Draco had ever found anything out about the Potters nanny. He made a mental note to ask him the next time he crossed the man's path, but knew that it was futile. Draco still didn't remember what had been so pressing that he'd rushed over to the flat that night. Ginny had searched for the parchment he'd had in his hand, but it had disappeared. Added to that, there was so much occupying his brain at the moment, small mental notes like that were often buried under the avalanche of his life.

The largest portion of this avalanche was Mariah. He still could get no sense from her. His questions went unanswered, his touches unnoticed. It was almost as if she'd turned to stone. Ron was beginning to fear that by the time he finally reached her, she would be buried so deep, even a St. Bernard wouldn't be able to find her. And this go round, Mandrake draft wouldn't help.

After two days, Ron knew he was out of his depth. Whatever it was plaguing her, it wasn't physical, not anymore. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. He needed help, he needed guidance. He needed another Diviner. Owls sent to Kalena, the head of Mariah's Order, had returned unopened, so that left him with only one other option.

It had taken every ounce of nerve he had to climb the silver ladder to Sibyll Trelawney's room and beg his old teacher for help. The contempt he'd held for her during his school days had dissipated when he'd learned last year that her eccentricities were merely for show, but he still felt odd approaching her.

The tower room had been as stifling as he remembered, the cloying smoke from the fire had made him feel dull witted. Pushing aside the memories of classes held in this room, Ron had sat on a pouf opposite Sibyll and spilled out what he knew from The Event. He had nearly broken down in her arms when she'd explained that Mariah simply needed a great deal of rest to recover from her experience. He'd recovered from that rush of gratitude when she'd said she'd write to Kalena straight away.

"Kalena?" Ron had asked, his face twisting into a frown. "Good luck. I've tried owling her since it happened, but they were returned unopened."

"Well, of course they were. She's in seclusion, Ron. Her current residence is charmed to repel any outside communication. Only those she's told her location to personally will be able to contact her. She will probably come straight away. Mariah may find it a bit difficult to cope with suddenly having more talent as a Diviner than she ever imagined, and Kalena will no doubt be able to help her adjust." Sibyll had removed her large spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "She wasn't raised as one of us, due to her own lack of foresight..."

"Don't you criticize her," Ron had snapped. "She was raised by one of the worst human beings I've ever had the misfortune to meet, and believe me, that's saying something. I don't blame her in the slightest for wanting to distance herself from everything about that woman."

"Calm yourself, Ron," Sibyll had replied, standing to pat his shoulder reassuringly. "It wasn't meant as a smear on Mariah, merely an observation. But I do think it a good idea to inform Kalena of what has transpired. She might already know, of course," she'd said as an afterthought.

As Ron reflected on the whole conversation, he had to admit that if he'd been taught by Sibyll he might have learned more than he did from batty Professor Trelawney. He knew that she kept the serious side of her very secret, though, so he made no mention of it to anyone save those he knew had already seen it.

Ron climbed the staircase toward his flat with a heavy heart. Another night ahead of him facing a quiet flat and a catatonic fiancée. He'd met with Sibyll two days ago, but there hadn't been so much as a sparrow from Kalena. He was beginning to lose hope that she'd _ever_ contact them. The day after his trip to the room at the top of North tower, Ron had sent Rianne to stay with his parents at the Burrow. Their daughter hadn't understood why Mum wouldn't hold her or play with her, and Ron had had so much else to cope with, he'd been a loss as to what else to do. He didn't want their daughter having even a residual memory of Mariah like this. His mother, while very worried about Mariah, had been over the moon.

He'd barely set foot on the top landing when he heard the door below slam shut. "Faren?" he called out.

"No, Ron," said an eerily calm voice that sent a ripple of unease into his belly.

She reached the landing within seconds and breezed right past him into his flat. By the time he closed the door behind him, Kalena had removed her cloak and was hanging it on a peg by the door.

"Where is she?" the Diviner commanded.

"Hello to you, too," Ron said back, but his heart wasn't in it. If she was here to help, he didn't want to alienate her. He'd save the rest of his biting comments for when Mariah snapped out of her self-imposed solitude.

"I'd certainly appreciate that," Kalena said evenly.

Ron shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. He'd forgotten that this woman could see into his thoughts, his past, his future, as easily as opening a book.

"She's in our bedroom," Ron sighed, slumping onto the sofa and pointing out the correct door with a finger. "Can you help her?" he asked her retreating back.

"Only if she wants to be helped, Ron."

That didn't comfort him in the slightest.

*^*^*^*^**

Mariah knew that Kalena was there the moment she put her hand on the doorknob. She'd heard the muted voices outside the bedroom door and waited for the familiar mix of dread and hatred she felt around Diviners. It never came. The feeling coursing through her could only be described as relief. She so longed to talk to someone, anyone, about what had happened, but she had no one. Not even Ron. So many times over the days since Draco's Event, as Ron called it, she had wanted to reach out to Ron. To open her mind to him and let him help her. But she had been afraid. Afraid of what she'd find in _his_ mind. Did he think her a freak now?

"That's just about enough of that, Mariah," Kalena said, her voice clear and crisp.

The women surveyed each other silently. All her life, Mariah had shunned all contact with the other women in the Order. The way her mother ran her life was enough to color her view of all of them. Now, though, she had so many questions that she almost welcomed Kalena's presence. Rather than go to someone besides Allison with her questions about the Diviner Order early in her life, Mariah had distanced herself instead.

Immediately following The Event, after Ron had helped her into bed, she'd completely shut down, mentally and physically. But once the initial exhaustion had passed, she'd remained in her bed, plagued by worry and fear. And she'd chosen to remain shut down mentally, to Ron at least. She'd known that he was trying to reach her through their Bond, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to open up to him. She knew he had questions, but she didn't have any answers for him. Perhaps, just perhaps, Kalena would be able to provide those answers.

The derision she felt towards those of her ilk was hard to release after being so closely held for so long, and she couldn't bring herself to greet the woman cordially. "What are you doing here?" she croaked, her voice nearly gone from lack of use.

Kalena ignored her. It hadn't taken any of her Knower abilities to figure out what Mariah was thinking. She'd seen the course of her thoughts clearly on the younger woman's face. Patience was the only way to get through this conversation. Patience and persistence. Mariah had to ask the questions or the answers would be meaningless. "Tell me what has happened to make you shun the world like this," she asked in a clear, calm voice as if she was asking Mariah for a recipe for cauldron cakes.

"Don't you know?" Mariah sneered back, disdain in every syllable.

Kalena didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she conjured a chair for herself and sat, her face a study in patience, clearly indicating that she was prepared to wait all night for Mariah to begin.

Mariah scowled as she faced the head of the Order, but she began speaking. Her desire for the truth of what had happened wiped away the last of her scorn, the last dregs of Allison's influence.

It seemed to take no time at all to tell Kalena everything. It came out in a rush of memories, but Mariah kept her voice crisp and emotionless, sticking to the facts rather than delving into feelings. She explained the way her fingers knew to seek out the source of the injury, the way her mind had found Draco's spirit and life essence nearly depleted. She told her of the pain in her own head as she'd healed his.

Once she'd finished, she again asked Kalena why she was here. She needed to know that someone had summoned her. That Kalena hadn't just _known_ to come. Because if she knew, others would, and word would no doubt get to her mother. The absolute last thing she needed right now was Allison Leyah.

"It seems your Bond has a particular affection for you that transcends anything I've ever experienced," Kalena explained. "He tried to contact me several times, but I didn't get the letters. Then he approached Sibyll for help. She wrote to me the moment he left."

"Ron went to Sibyll?" Mariah said, her heart tripping over itself. As much as he'd prodded her to go and see the only other Diviner they knew about her nightmares, Ron himself avoided her at all costs. For him to go to Sibyll for help...

"Yes, he did. He was very worried about you, and so am I, now that I've seen you. I realize that this was no small feat you accomplished the other night, but you should be well over it by now."

"No small feat, Kalena? Over it?" Mariah sat up so quickly she felt dizzy. Rubbing her temples to get the blood flowing back to her brain, she continued. "No small feat," she repeated, softly this time, shaking her head. "I brought a man back from the dead. Me. Who has no more Diviner ability than Sibyll Trelawney."

"Where on earth did you get that idea?" Kalena asked, and Mariah had to admit, the woman did look truly shocked.

"What?" Mariah lowered her voice, confused. "I've never been able to do more than Persuade someone to choose cake over cookies for dessert."

"No, Mariah," Kalena said softly and this time she stood and walked over to Mariah's bedside and took her hands. "That's all you've let yourself do. The power's been there all along, you've just spent an inordinate amount of time convincing yourself that it wasn't. I'd be willing to bet that this isn't the first time you've healed someone, either."

"It isn't," Mariah said, her eyes now fixed on the hands she had clasped in her lap, her memories of Ginny's paper cut and Rianne's teething still strong in her mind.

"Your mother was too powerful, and she researched your father too well, not to have produced a powerful child. There are some that watched you closely as you neared eighteen, myself among them. I won't deny that we were extremely surprised that you showed only a small bit of Persuasion. You had the potential to be the most powerful Diviner in several generations."

Mariah thought back to the day she'd explained the Order to Ron and the others. She'd told them that Diviners only had one gift, not all of them. At the time, she'd thought it was true. "But how can I have Healing ability, Kalena? I thought I was a Persuader. I thought Diviners only had one ability. I mean, I demonstrated Hurt and Healing to Ron once, but I thought that was the extent of my power in that respect."

"Oh, love," Kalena said, her voice dropping to a comforting tone. "Most Diviners do only have one strong capability. If not for your mother's careful selection of her own Bond, you would probably have been just like the rest of us. We've known that you had the potential for great power within you since you were born."

"So if some of us," Mariah shuddered, realizing that for the first time she had included herself when speaking of the Diviner Order, "if some of us have all three abilities, no matter how rare, then what's so special about the Triuna? Why all the fuss over her?"

"Because the Triuna has, or will have, when she comes of age, all three gifts to the furthest extent. While you were able to bring your friend back from the brink of death, he had not yet crossed the threshold. He wasn't dead when you began to heal, Draco still had a pulse. It doesn't matter how faint it was, if his heart hadn't still been struggling to maintain his life, you wouldn't have been able to do a thing. Emilia, however, when she is old enough, will be able to go further than you ever could."

"She'll be able to raise the dead?" Mariah asked, astonished and not a little bit scared of the prospect.

"Not in the way you mean," Kalena said, "but in a sense. Provided that the body has not grown cold, that some essence of the spirit lingers, Emilia will be able to retrieve the life force back into the body. And for her it will not cause resultant injuries."

"Resultant injuries?" Mariah's brow creased, but she also ran a finger under her nose, remembering the blood pouring from her nose and ear as she'd tried to repair the damage in Draco's brain.

"I can see by the look on your face that you've already answered your own question. Yes, resultant injuries are shadows that pass on to the Healer's body as she works. One Healer I know had a limp for a week after healing a child's broken leg. Sleep will cleanse your body of these resultants, and the deeper the injury, the longer it takes you to return to normal. Emilia will have no such need."

Mariah began to understand the reason that Renae and her child, the baby Emilia, were now being raised in seclusion. Emilia would be a force to be reckoned with once she became of age and truly realized her powers. Kalena was probably working tirelessly to make sure that the girl was reared to cope with the awesome responsibility of harboring these powers. She was suddenly very, very glad that she'd helped Renae hide from Allison.

"Why didn't anyone ever tell me this? That I had all this power?" Mariah said, bitterness evident in her words.

"When did you ever give us a chance?" Kalena countered. "From the moment your abilities began to surface, you shut your mind off to them and cast all of us aside. You never wanted to have anything to do with us or with the history of your people."

"You know what raised me, Kalena. Can you blame me?"

Kalena merely sighed and squeezed Mariah's hands. "I can't say that I do, when you put it that way. But why didn't you come to me, to another Diviner, we could have answered your questions."

Mariah remained stubbornly mute. She hadn't gone to another in the Order because she'd wanted to hurt Allison as badly as she could without using the power her mother had given her. She'd wanted to extract revenge for her father's mistreatment, for all the times Allison had used her power to make him bend to her slightest whim. Knowing all she knew now, Mariah realized she'd hit the target dead center. What better way to inflict pain on her mother than to deny all that Allison had striven to achieve?

And what of her baby? Rianne's sweet face, her pudgy cheeks and two-toothed smile flashed before her eyes. Her daughter...what of Rianne?

"Only time will tell that, Mariah." Kalena smiled, her face a study in sympathy.

"Get the hell out of my mind," Mariah snapped. "This is just why I left you people. You can't help but snoop. You can't even _try_ to give others their privacy."

"I do apologize," Kalena said, but her tone said otherwise. "It is hard to ignore when you shout at me, however."

Mariah felt a shiver down her spine. Once, ages ago, when she and Ron were just getting their bearings around each other, she'd had this exact conversation. But Ron had been the one telling _her_ to stay out of _his_ mind. _But that's a part of our Bond,_ she rationalized, _that's something sacred to both of us_.

"I still want nothing to do with being a Diviner," Mariah said stubbornly, but her voice lacked the conviction she'd had even an hour before.

"For God's sake, Mariah," Kalena said, her voice quiet, but resigned. "You saved the life of your friend's husband. What more proof do you need that your abilities are a _gift_ and not the curse you claim them to be?"

Mariah could feel tears pricking the insides of her eyelids, but refused to let them fall in front of Kalena. She didn't address the older witch, but turned to lie back down in her bed and turn her back to her. There was so much racing through her mind right now, she felt as if her head would split from the pressure. All of her life, she'd wanted to be normal. To be anything but her mother's daughter. But if she had been, Draco would be dead right now. Instead of curled up with her husband, Ginny would be planning a funeral. The thought sent a wave of cold terror down her spine.

"You're forgetting one vital piece of the puzzle, Mariah."

She was startled to hear Kalena's voice, thinking the woman had left. She didn't turn to face her, but she did listen. "You're forgetting choice. Just because your mother chose to use her power toward more selfish ends, does not mean that you must. Or that you will. You are free to deny your gift just as you are free to accept it. And if you chose to accept it, you are the only one who decides how, when, or if, to use those powers. The choice is now, as it was when you turned eighteen, yours."

Kalena opened the bedroom door, walked through it and closed it behind her without waiting for further comment from Mariah. Not surprisingly, she found Mariah's Bond waiting for her just on the other side of the door.

"I can do no more for her. The rest is up to Mariah."

Kalena picked up her cloak and Disapparated without another word.

Tentatively, Ron cracked open the bedroom door and peeked his head around it. Mariah was lying with her back to the door. Deciding that it was time to try to draw her out, Ron climbed onto the bed. When she didn't stiffen or inch further away, Ron placed gentle hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Her face, what he could see of it in the gloom of the room, was a mass of grief and confusion. Her cheeks were soaked with her silent tears and her shoulders shook as she fought to keep the worst of her emotion at bay.

"Ron..." she began, but couldn't finish. The feel of him next to her, his bright blue eyes so full of love, caused all the emotion she'd kept at bay to come spilling out. Ron pulled her more firmly into his arms, gathering her close and saying nothing while she expelled the worst of it from her system. It seemed to take hours. Every sob that wrenched itself from her tore through his heart like a rampaging hippogriff.

She didn't speak, not in words or thought. That didn't matter to Ron; he'd heard enough of Mariah and Kalena's conversation to understand what was going on inside her right now. All that he cared about was having her back in his arms. All that mattered was that she was safe. All that was important was that she still loved him, still needed him, as much as he loved and needed her.

Mariah pulled back suddenly and faced him. "Is that true?" she asked quietly around the sniffles.

Ron smiled. "Of course it's true, Mariah." He kissed her nose and reached up to frame her face with his hands. "I've never cared what kind of a witch you are, Mariah Susan Jameson. All I've ever cared about was that you're _my_ witch."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

It had been heaven, Hermione decided. Two hours of sheer, unadulterated bliss, surrounded by nothing and no one save her seventh year Muggle Studies students and piles of parchment. No notes, no looking over shoulders, no cringing at the _tap tap_ of an owl on the window.

Just NEWT practice papers and ten students determined to achieve Outstanding in Muggle Studies out of respect for the teacher they loved.

 _But even this brief respite has to come to an end_ , Hermione thought as she gathered up the remaining parchments and placed them in their respective files. She'd loved spending time with her students, but soon, Draco, Ginny, Ron, Mariah and Harry would be showing up and reality would intrude. Much as she didn't want it to, she knew talk would eventually turn to That Witch.

"Hermione?"

The soft voice of greeting behind her made Hermione jump, but she turned to face her fellow Hogwarts teacher with a smile on her face.

"Hello, Sara," Hermione said, trying desperately not to remember what she'd seen this woman doing the last time they'd spoken. "Care to join me?"

Sara took the seat opposite her and folded her hands neatly on the tabletop. "Just for a moment. I'm meeting Severus here before we head off."

"Why didn't you come over from the castle together?"

"I had a bit of shopping to do for my Mum's upcoming birthday, and Severus had some seventh years that wanted a bit of his time today to go over ..."

"NEWT preparation?" Hermione grinned, waving at the files she'd been trying to reposition into her already over packed bag.

"Yes," Sara replied, waving away the approaching server.

"May I ask you something?" Hermione said, trying to cover the awkward silence that was threatening to descend upon them.

"Certainly. But I have a feeling I know what you're going to ask," Sara said. Hermione would have come up with something else to ask, but the sense she got from the other teacher was a receptive one, not a trace of the old hostility.

"You and Snape...er...Severus," Hermione blushed over her blunder, but Sara merely smiled at it. A bit thrown, Hermione tried to phrase the question. All she could come up with was one word. "How?"

Sara grinned broadly, her face now glowing with happiness. "I guess I have you and Harry to thank for it all," Sara said simply. Hermione's jaw dropped briefly. She snapped it shut but knew that nothing could wipe the look of confusion and disbelief from her face.

"When I first came here, I was in awe of everything. The honor of teaching at Hogwarts under one of the most gifted Transfiguration experts, meeting you and Harry, all of it. I was so overwhelmed, I made a bit of an idiot out of myself when we first met."

Hermione made as to contradict that statement, but Sara waved it off before she could. "I did, Hermione. But after a few days, that awe turned into something else. Something ugly. I started to become insanely jealous. And that jealousy slowly began to eat away at me."

"You mentioned that the other night," Hermione said, her eager expression nearly begging Sara to continue this time.

"Yes," Sara said, without a trace of animosity. "Your close relationship with Minerva, with the rest of the staff, with the students. I'd had one misgiving before I came here and it festered. I wondered why Minerva hadn't asked _you_ to take the first and second years as your gift at Transfiguration was well documented. Every time I saw you two together, I thought you were picking apart my abilities. I know now that I was way off base, but at the time," she shrugged, "let's just say that my self-esteem wasn't the strongest and my mind was fertile ground for these ideas."

"And how does S-Severus fit in to all of this?" Hermione was proud that she only stumbled briefly.

"One night, in this very restaurant, I was watching as you and your friends were having dinner. I could see you all through the mirror and I saw you and Harry discussing something and glancing in my direction. No doubt, I thought, you were telling Harry all the horrid things Minerva had told you about me. I let myself get into a seething rage inside and it became too much to handle, so I ran out as you approached me. And ran straight into Severus."

The smile that lightened Sara's face at the mention of the Potions master lightened Hermione's heart as well.

"I won't bore you with the day to day struggle that we went through, but it wasn't an easy road to travel. In retrospect, I know that we had to endure those early struggles to find the peace we now have, but it wasn't easy at the time. There were moments where we meshed, moments when we didn't. Times I thought he was using spells to make me fall for him, times he fed the worst of my feelings towards you and Harry, times he helped me work through the worst of my jealousy and low self-esteem. But in the end, I came to accept that what we had found was real, that my petty insecurities were nothing more than a reflection of my own low self worth."

"I'm so happy for you, Sara," Hermione said, taking a risk and reaching over to touch the other woman's hand, thrilled when Sara allowed the contact and even returned it with a slight squeeze.

They were kept from further discussion when the front door to the Tavern opened near them. Ron, Mariah and Snape walked through it together, but apart. Ron and Mariah held back a bit, but Snape headed straight for them. Hermione suddenly remembered that they were all meeting for dinner tonight, and had a thought.

"The lot of us are having dinner together tonight," she said to Sara, squeezing her hand slightly to pull her attention away from Snape as he approached. "Would you care to join us?"

Hermione didn't know if the beaming smile on the woman's face was from the invitation or Snape's presence, but she had a pretty good idea that it was the latter. "Thanks, Hermione," she said before standing to place a kiss on Snape's mouth in greeting. He snaked an arm around her waist and the pair of them turned to face her. "But we have other plans."

Hermione stood and threw her bag over her shoulder, waving Ron and Mariah over and pointing to the back room. They headed that way with a nod and Hermione turned back to Sara and Snape. "I hope you have a wonderful evening, then," she said.

Sara giggled and curled herself into Snape's side. "We will," she grinned before they turned and walked out of the restaurant, still arm and arm.

The sight of Severus Snape grinning like a schoolboy, not that she thought he'd _ever_ grinned as a schoolboy, carried Hermione all the way back to their usual table in the restaurant's more secluded back room. Once there, she dropped her bag on the floor near the wall and sat opposite Ron and next to Mariah. Ron, she noticed, was hunched over with a hand across his middle.

"What's with him?" Hermione asked Mariah.

"I saw Snape kissing someone," Ron said, straightening up and rubbing at his eyes. "I'll never be able to burn that image away. I feel like I'm gonna be sick."

"You should talk to Harry," Hermione said, laughter spilling out of her like an overheated potion, "he's seen worse."

A comfortable silence descended briefly, and then Hermione turned to Mariah. The shadows had not completely left the hollows beneath her eyes, but they were growing less and less noticeable every time she saw her. More importantly, there was a sense of happiness that radiated from Mariah now, a nearly tangible sense of peace. "So, how are you?"

"I'm moving through the five stages fairly well now," Mariah said with a self deprecating laugh. "The anger was quick, and that happened years ago, and some would say that I lingered a bit too long in the denial phase."

"Perhaps," Hermione grinned back, happy to hear her friend coping with her newly discovered powers so well. Thrilled beyond measure to hear her old friend's wry sense of humor again. "Out of bargaining and depression, too, are you?"

"Yep. Fully into acceptance now."

"Too right, she is," Ron interjected. "I can barely function in that house with all the owls flying around."

"Don't mind him," Mariah laughed, music to Hermione's ears, "he's just terrified I'll Persuade him into some henpecked husband and make him wait on me hand and foot."

"As if," Ron grinned back, kissing her temple. "I'm more afraid that she'll make me feel sympathy pains during her monthly cycle."

"Owls?" Hermione questioned, inwardly thrilled that Mariah was so accepting of her abilities that she was able to laugh about them.

"Kalena and I have been keeping up a fairly active level of communication. Every time I write to her with a question, I think of another almost immediately. The same goes for her, it seems. And she's keeping me updated about Renae as well."

"How is Renae?" Hermione wished she'd been able to keep the acrimony from her voice in deference to Mariah's childhood friend, but she'd never quite forgiven the other witch for the havoc she'd caused.

"Thriving, apparently. Whatever fates settled the Triuna on her shoulders knew what they were doing. Kalena said she's taken to motherhood like a grindylow to water. And Emilia is growing well. They have years yet before her powers come into being, and for now, they're just biding their time and letting her have a normal childhood."

Ron glanced over towards the open door, a smile flitting across his face briefly before he schooled his features into disdain. "Lo, the git approacheth."

"Sodeth off, Weasley," Draco said back, just as blankly. He went straight for Mariah and handed her a single red rose before kissing her cheek.

"Draco, this has to stop," Mariah replied, but took the flower anyway.

"Not bloody likely," he said, his tone light but his face serious. "One a day for the rest of my life, Mariah."

"Is Harry on his way?" Hermione asked, trying without much success to choke down the emotion suddenly clogging her throat.

"Should be right behind us," Draco said, taking a seat next to Ginny. "He forgot to bring the letters with him and had to nip back to the house and get them."

The sudden reminder of the turmoil of her past week nearly rocked Hermione from her chair. For a little while, she'd been able to put it away. It had been a few hours of blessed freedom, but now the spell was broken and reality came crashing on top of her once again. Harry was being stalked by someone, an increasingly hostile someone, and there wasn't a bloody thing they could do about it.

In an effort to marshal their forces together, they'd all agreed to meet for dinner at Ember's. It was a reminder of happier times, dinners together before That Witch had made her presence known. And it was a chance for all of them to get away, to just be adults for a little while. The only glitch had been the babies. Love them though they all did, each couple was longing for a night away. But with the loss of their nanny, they'd been at a loss.

Until Molly Weasley got wind of the situation, that is. She'd Apparated straight to Draco and Ginny's, told each of her children, biological and honorary, to bring the babies to the Malfoy house and to get themselves out of the house and leave her to spoil her grandchildren rotten.

This time, there hadn't even been a token protest.

Harry stood at the entrance to Ember's back room and surveyed the gathering. Ron and Mariah were curled into each other, across from them, Draco and Ginny were similarly seated, chairs pulled close together, Draco's arm around Gin's shoulders. They were all smiling. Funny, he thought, he hadn't felt like smiling in weeks.

Hermione's eyes found him first. As always. For a brief moment, they were alone in this crowd of people. Lost in the world that was their life together. Love shone from her brown eyes...love for him. It enveloped him, shot straight through to the marrow of his bones and warmed the last of the chill from his body. In that moment, held in her eyes, nothing mattered. Not obsessive witches, not fear for his family, not obscure predictions of the future. The only thing that meant anything was Hermione.

Feeling lighter than he had all day, he entered the room and took a seat beside her. "I love you," he whispered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple.

"Same goes, Potter," Hermione whispered. Her eyes were misty and he knew that their brief connection had touched her the same way it had touched him. It strengthened him more than phoenix song ever could. With her beside him, anything was possible.

"Oi," Draco said, breaking the silence, "get a room."

"Jealous?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow towards the Slytherin.

"Always," Draco grinned back, blowing Harry a kiss.

"First Snape, now this," Ron muttered, clutching his stomach again.

Harry was pleased that the previous atmosphere of joviality had been restored. He knew the conversation would eventually turn serious, but for the moment, he wanted laughter. He wanted to keep the wolf at the door, even if only briefly; he offered up a small apology to Remus for the analogy.

The conversation around the table remained boisterous throughout their delicious dinner. Harry and Hermione told everyone about Sara and Snape, causing Ron to clutch his stomach once again; Ginny went over the latest wedding plans for Ron, having updated Mariah earlier that day. Harry and Draco had a great time teasing Ron about a bachelor party and all of the witches teased Ron about their plans for Mariah's hen's night.

"Strippers?" Ron asked. "They have wizard strippers?"

"Of course they do," Ginny said at once, "why should you lot have all the fun?"

"Lucky for me Mariah doesn't go for that sort of thing," Ron said, a confident smile on his face.

"Says who?" Mariah responded primly, laughing out loud at Ron's dropping jaw.

"Excuse me, Harry, but this just arrived for you." The Tavern's owner, Ember, stood in the entryway with an envelope in her hands.

Draco and Ron jumped to their feet, both men trying not to reach for their wands in front of the owner. "How was it delivered?" Draco asked, his eyes already looking over the petite witch's head into the main dining room.

"Brown owl," Ember replied quizzically. "Is there a problem?"

He watched as his best mates deflated and retook their seats. "No, no problem, Ember. Thanks," he said as he took the envelope from her.

Harry stared at the piece of parchment as if he expected it to spring to life and grab a hold of his throat. _You're going to end up with a parchment phobia if you're not careful_ , he cautioned himself. It couldn't be helped, though. Not when every piece of paper that arrived for him contained either a threat, an endearment, or, as they always did, another indication of the level of madness his stalker had reached.

The contents of the past week's worth of her letters shuttered through his mind like a badly tuned radio.

 __

 _"you will be mine....we're destined...beloved...I'll prove it to you...office...only the beginning...no one could ever love you as I do...how dare you...I know you love me too...you're too blinded...it is meant...don't trifle with me...we are meant...if you would just open your eyes, you'd see...why can't you see what is...bloody bastard...I'll make you see..."_

Now, with shaking hands, he ripped open the envelope and slid the parchment out and read it aloud.

"Beloved,

I am sorry that I let despair and anger color my last letters. I know this is as frustrating for you as it is for me. Please do not despise me for becoming distraught, but after so long apart, I briefly surrendered to my impatience. Not to worry, though, beloved. I have it all figured out. I know exactly what to do."

Harry ran his hands through already messy hair as he let the parchment fall to the table top.

"I take it we're not to be leaping about in delight that she's calmed down a trifle," Ron said in the silence that followed Harry's oration.

Harry had a momentary urge to throw up his hands and take off running. This was maddening. He supposed that either Hermione's bent towards control freakishness was rubbing off on him during their marriage or that he was simply at his wit's end. He hated that this witch held all the cards and was calling all the shots. He hated that she could, through one single piece of parchment, bring his life crashing back down again.

The change in tone of her letters bothered him, too. Her anger over the past week, both in the letters and in the vandalism of his office and the broken window at his house, had upset him. But this calm, composed, and confident woman scared him even more.

"Harry," Mariah said, her face uneasy, but her tone determined, "I'd like to try something. It might not do any good, as both you and Ember have touched it, but some of her might still be readable on the parchment."

Harry nodded and Mariah took the letter up and held it gingerly in both of her hands, her eyes drifting shut. "You know her," Mariah said, her voice dreamy and distant. "You've been in close contact with her recently, or you will be," her face screwed up in concentration. "I can't tell which. I can't see her face, but I can feel her. She's excited, happy to have figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Mariah sighed. "It's all jumbled up, her feelings, her plans. I can't get a clear picture. And I don't think it's lack of experience with Knowing, I think it's the diseased state of her mind."

"You mean she's ill?" Ginny asked.

"Could you heal her of this illness, Mariah? If you knew who she was?" Hermione asked before Mariah could answer Ginny.

Mariah's eyes fluttered open again and she looked across the table to her friends. "No, Ginny, she's not ill, not physically. And no, Hermione. As this problem is in her mind, not her physical being, there is nothing any Healer could do to eradicate it. I doubt even Emilia would be able to when she becomes of age. The workings of the human mind are still an unfathomable mystery, even to us." Harry saw the slight shudder and knew from Ron that she was still having trouble assimilating herself into life as a Diviner, but knew also that she was determined not to hide anymore.

"Is there any danger to Hermione?" Harry asked at once.

"I felt no malice in her towards anyone, not even you, Harry. She simply believes that you are both fated to love one another forever. She's determined to break you of the spell keeping you from realizing your destiny, but apart from that, no. To be honest, I don't think Hermione's even on her radar anymore."

"Radar?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"I'll explain it later, love," Mariah smiled at Ron, sinking into his arms and the cocoon of support they always lent her.

"You do know that your best friend teaches Muggle Studies, Ron, yes? Perhaps she could tutor the cluelessness out of you once and for all," Draco chimed in, toasting him with a bottle of butterbeer.

"Sod off, Malfoy," echoed around the table. This time even Draco joined in, telling himself to sod off. Somehow, that little epithet had come to have such an endearing meaning to him, a mark of acceptance. So he strove to get them to chorus it as often as possible. Especially when things were getting too serious. He'd been too close to death, too close to losing what he'd come to consider his extended family to let them wallow in what they couldn't control. The calm, determined turn to the letter writing wasn't sitting well with him, but until they knew which way to look, they were pretty much stuck floundering. When she did strike, and according to Ginny it was all but inevitable, Merlin help the woman. The rage and wrath of Harry's friends and family would descend upon her in a trice. It would probably take them weeks to find all the pieces once Harry's mob finished with her.

The only thing that bothered him was his complete inability to remember what had sent him to Ron's flat in the middle of the night. He knew that it could provide the key to unraveling this mystery but every time he tried, he failed. It frustrated the bloody hell out of him, that memory dancing on the tip of his tongue like a half remembered song. Trying not to groan in frustration, Draco reached for his nearly empty butterbeer bottle and his eyes fell on Ron as he asked a question. The tumblers in the recesses of Draco's brain finally clicked into their proper alignment. Ron...question...

"That's it!" Draco cried out loud, causing the others at the table to stop their heated conversation about the latest letter to stare openly at him. Such was the thrill of having finally figured it out, he didn't even mind being looked at like he'd taken leave of his senses.

"What?" Ginny asked.

His elation at having finally recalled what had taken him to Ron's flat that night dissipated rapidly as he remembered exactly _what_ he'd gone to tell his brother-in-law.

"I finally remembered," he said slowly, his eyes darting from Ron to Harry and Hermione then back to Ron. "You'd asked me to look into Faren's background a bit." Ron nodded, also shooting a furtive glance at the Potters. "I had just gotten word that night, the results of a very deep, very...er...thorough background check."

"What's this?" Harry said briskly. "Why were you asking about Faren, Ron?"

"It wasn't anything I felt comfortable coming to you about, mate," Ron placated. "I just had a few questions, a few things that didn't add up and wanted to see if Draco could...er..."

"Perform a little Arithmancy?" Harry offered.

"Fair enough explanation," Ron agreed, looking sheepish.

"And what did you find out that our investigation of her didn't, Draco?" Harry's stomach clenched as tightly as his hands while he waited to hear what Draco had found out. The look on his face indicated it wasn't good news.

"It wasn't easy, I assure you. And none but the most intense scrutiny would have discovered it."

"For Merlin's sweet sake, what?" Hermione snapped.

"From what we were able to tell, until about a year ago, Faren Jianesian didn't exist."


	8. Chapter 8

Harry stood staring out of the kitchen window, still as a Muggle statue. Hermione was asleep upstairs, Jamie tucked in right beside her. He envied his wife. Sleep had eluded him tonight, and he had a suspicion that it would for some time to come. In fact, it seemed highly doubtful that he and restful slumber would be on speaking terms any time soon. Not until he figured out just what the bloody hell was going on around him.

From what Draco had been able to determine, the woman they knew as Faren was a fabrication. Her entire life, from her training by a local witch to her very name, had been created simply for them to find. When Hermione had sputtered indignantly about how carefully they'd researched everything Faren had told them, Draco had laughed mirthlessly and told them that that hadn't mattered a tinker's dam. He'd told them quite grimly that none but a deliberate search would have revealed the truth.

"Hermione," he'd explained, "we had to use techniques that are...well, let's just say a bit left of acceptable in order to discover the truth. And even then we didn't find much; just that it was all a ruse. There was nothing you could have done, or found, without first going on the assumption that she was an imposter. You had no reason to do that. We did." That had mollified Hermione to some degree, but Harry knew she'd berate herself for a while for not discovering the duplicity herself.

After Draco had dropped his bombshell about Faren not being Faren, theories and comments had flown around the room like snitches run amok. Nothing definite had been accomplished other than Ron's final decision to take his father's advice and borrow a sharp axe to gain entrance to her flat. Harry was going to meet him later tomorrow afternoon to help. _This_ afternoon, he reminded himself as it was well into Saturday even though the sun was still a few hours below the horizon.

As unbelievable as Draco's findings had been, they weren't what was keeping Harry from sleep. It was the comment he'd uttered to Harry as they'd left the Tavern.

 __

 _"Why would anyone go to such lengths to create the perfect nanny for us?" Harry asked._

 _"That's the real question, isn't it? Does this have anything to do with your mysterious admirer or is it something we're just now discovering?"_

Harry turned from the open window and walked over to the couch near the cold, empty fireplace and let his mind work. There was a parchpad on the coffee table filled with Hermione's notes for an upcoming exam. He flipped past them and placed her quill on the first blank page.

Words poured from the quill as he recorded the events, big and small, that had occurred since the summer. Since the Dursleys had died in that fire. Dawn was starting to break the horizon, and the first fingers of daylight were streaming through the living room window when he finally threw down the quill and massaged his aching hand.

"Harry?" Hermione said, her voice still heavy with sleep. "Have you been up all night?"

"Yes," he sighed, leaning back onto the couch and removing his glasses to rub overly taxed eyes.

"What's this?" she asked, taking up the parchpad before cuddling into his side on the couch. Harry dropped his arm onto her shoulder and pulled her close. He was quiet as she flipped through the pages. Her eyes were darting left and right as she answered her own question. "Do you think all of this is somehow related to Faren?"

"I don't know what to think anymore," Harry admitted, letting his eyes close.

Hermione fell silent again as Harry drifted off to sleep. She knew precisely when his conscious mind turned off by the depth of his breathing. Hermione closed her eyes and let herself melt into her husband's side. The peace of the quiet house surrounded them. For a fleeting moment, Hermione longed for Harry's old invisibility cloak. Not to hide from the eyes of the world, but as a way to be apart - to be just them for a bit. Just Harry and Hermione; two normal people in a normal life. Harry's glasses fell to the floor and the quiet thud startled her back to the present. His hand had loosened on the frames as he'd fallen further into sleep. She raised her eyes to study his face, noting that the worry lines had eased as the peace of sleep had filtered in.

 _So much,_ Hermione thought, raising a hand to brush his fringe away from his eyes. _You've been through so much, Harry._ We've _been through so much. Aren't we due a break?_ That thought brought her focus away from his sleeping face and more towards the parchpad he'd filled with dates and events while she'd slept upstairs. They may be due for a cosmic break, but until they puzzled out the mystery currently invading their lives from all sides, they weren't liable to get it. Not sitting on their duffs waiting for it to happen, at any rate. Hermione's eyes darted over the various things Harry had jotted down in an attempt to at least begin working towards that break.

They had the pieces, Hermione mused as her eyes flew over the parchment, but it would be bloody helpful to know what the puzzle was supposed to look like. It wasn't the first time they'd flown blind in the face of an enigma and she had a dread feeling that it probably wouldn't be the last. Steeling her resolve to solve one puzzle at a time, Hermione focused on the words in front of her.

 __

 _Dursley fire. Rosie fired. Faren hired. First letters. Draco's accident. Katia's accident. Katia notices special award missing. Jamie's dog missing. Jamie's blanket missing. Window broken. Office ransacked. Scar tingling. Faren disappears. Sara and Snape. Hermione out of town. Jason. Imperius. Faren's behavior changes. Mariah's powers. Renae's predictions. Diviners. Connection charm on scar. Beloved. Polyjuice._

There were many scratching outs among the decipherable words, and thinking back, Hermione thought that Harry had come up with quite a comprehensive list. Wracking her brain, she could come up with no other events or odd happenings over the past few months. Some of them surprised her because even _she_ had forgotten them as life had rolled on. The prickles on Harry's scar, for example. She knew they still happened, because seeing him press his fingers to his scar had become a common occurrence. But it took reading over Harry's list to realize that until this year, he hadn't felt so much as an itch along that scar since he'd started to look for her.

 __

 _Since he'd started to look for her..._

The phrase echoed in her mind like a shout in a canyon. Could that have any bearing on what was going on? The prickling at the base of her neck said that it did, but she couldn't make the connection. Relegating it to the back of her mind for further study, Hermione placed the list back on the table and curled into Harry's side once again. His sleep, while peaceful at first, was becoming more active as he slipped into his dream cycle. Head whipping side to side, Harry was saying something just this side of intelligible.

"Shhh, love," Hermione soothed, taking his hand in hers.

Harry didn't seem inclined to listen. He continued to thrash and mutter next to her. "My fault....Jamie...Hermione...my fault..." He awoke with a start, twitching as he was pulled violently from sleep and looked around as if not sure where he was.

Hermione pulled him back to her, and pressed on his head until it once again lay upon her shoulder. Knowing that he must be exhausted, she was hoping that he'd fall back to sleep. But as they sat silently for a few moments, Hermione could tell that sleep wouldn't claim him again that day. His pulse rate was way too erratic for that.

"It's not, you know," Hermione whispered into the silence.

"Not what?" Harry asked on a defeated sort of sigh.

"It's not your fault," she explained, raising herself up to kiss his temple.

"I wish I could believe that, Hermione. I wish I could believe..."

"You can and you will," she insisted. She turned herself sideways on the sofa, legs crossed in front of her and framed Harry's face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. "The fault lies with the person or persons perpetuating this fiasco. Would you blame _me_ if the letters were being sent to me?"

"Of course not. But it's..."

"I know, Harry. It's what you've dreaded since the moment I told you I was pregnant. That someone would hurt me, or Jamie, because of who _you_ are. But I still don't think that's the case. Whoever is behind this hasn't hurt any of us. Not physically, anyway. Nor is there any indication that this person intends us any harm. The only one who's been injured was Draco, and that was an accident."

Harry wanted to comment that he wondered just how much of what had happened to Draco had really been an accident, but decided that that way madness lay. If he started second guessing every mishap over the last few months, he'd go insane.

"You're forgetting what Ginny said, about stalkers turning violent when they realize that their affections are not returned."

"I'm not forgetting that, Harry. I'm just focusing on what's in front of us, what we know for certain, not what could happen in the future. Our best defense right now is knowledge, and our best hope is discovering who is behind this before she reaches that violent stage."

Harry wanted to point out how little defensive knowledge they had, but didn't. He very much hoped to increase that small stock of information this afternoon when he and Ron entered Faren's flat.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

"Harry's on his way," Ron told Mariah, standing and brushing the soot from the knees of his jeans.

"How does he look?" Mariah called from the bedroom where she was rocking Rianne in preparation for the baby's afternoon nap.

"About how you'd expect. If he slept for more than twenty minutes last night, I'll eat the Giant Squid."

"Not very convincing, Ron. You'll eat anything if it stands still long enough," Mariah snickered.

Ron walked into the bedroom on the heels of her comment. He stood in the doorway watching mother and daughter, drinking in the smile still lingering at the corners of his fiancée's mouth. How odd it seemed now that just two weeks ago, the sight of Mariah smiling was about as rare as Snape giving points to Gryffindor. Ever since she'd come to accept her powers, however, the shadows beneath her eyes had faded completely and the only thing that had her tossing and turning in bed now was him. Ron had to stifle a grin of his own at the memory of just _how_ he'd tossed her the previous night.

Once she'd accepted her power for what it was, blessing rather than curse, the rest had just fallen away. The nightmares, the shadows, all of it. He had his Mariah back.

 _You never lost me, love_. Mariah had obviously noticed the wistful look on his face and tuned in to what he was thinking.

 __

 _Thank God for that. But there for a while..._

Their eyes met over the head of their daughter, now fast asleep in her mother's arms. That statement didn't need finishing. Because there for a while, he didn't know if she'd ever get past what had haunted her. He knew her strength, knew it better than anyone on the planet. Strong as she was, though, he hadn't been sure if the mental turmoil would overcome that inner strength in the end. Thankfully, it hadn't. But Ron knew it had been bloody close.

Harry chose that moment to knock on their front door quietly before pushing it open and entering. Ron allowed his eyes to linger on Mariah briefly and he pictured, in great detail, his ideas on how to spend their evening. Mariah blushed profusely as she rose to lay Rianne in her crib.

 _You're on,_ she grinned, sending him an image that nearly made standing face to face with Harry an impossibility. Nearly. He was wearing his robes today.

"You set?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at the red tinge to his best friend's ears and the lecherous grin still turning the corners of Ron's mouth. Harry smiled in return.

"Just about. Ginny should be here any minute." Ron walked over to the fireplace and hefted the large axe his father had brought over that morning before popping over to Ginny's to get Morgan. The gleam in his eye at holding the lethal Muggle instrument could have been Arthur Weasley's. "Like it?"

"It's you." Harry tried for a smile but didn't quite get there. "Why's Ginny coming?" he asked when that statement sunk in.

"She went on for about five minutes this morning, blathering about how Mum and Dad were already going to have Morgan today, and some other nonsense. But I know better. She's curious as hell and doesn't want to hear about what we find second hand."

"Always assuming we find anything," Harry said, as if mentally preparing himself for an unsuccessful trip.

"I'm surprised Hermione isn't here," Ron commented.

"How thick do I look, Ron? Why do you think I wanted to do this while Jamie was napping?" Hermione hadn't had any comment one way or the other on his timing for this expedition...and that non-reaction had concerned him. Her silence could only mean one thing; she was saving her argument for later. But Harry had his reasons for not wanting his wife present, and would deal with her vitriol when she finally let it loose on him. Regardless of the argument she was planning on using, he refused to even entertain the image of her stumbling into a trap set for her presence. He wanted his wife and child safely tucked away in their home.

"And what did she have to say about that?" Ron asked, mentally wincing at the tongue-lashing Harry must have received.

"Nothing."

"Uh oh," Ron said, matching the grimace on Harry's face. A silent Hermione was _never_ a good sign.

Ron stopped talking the moment Ginny walked through the door. Whatever he said in commiseration would be on the next local owl to Hermione. And he liked his body just the way it was. Free of hex marks and such.

 _But I heard it, Ron,_ Mariah quipped in his head.

 _I'll throw myself on your mercy later,_ Ron thought back.

 _Deal._ And she smiled so hard Ron felt it from across the room.

"Shall we?" Ginny asked from the doorway. They joined her and moved the few paces to stand directly in front of the offending door.

Just to be on the safe side, Ron tried _Alohomora_ one last time. No luck. Both Harry and Ginny tried different spells. The door remained shut and the knob refused to turn. Harry eyed the axe warily and asked Ron to wait. He reemerged from Ron's flat with a dish which he promptly threw at the door. When it connected and shattered, Harry repaired it and returned it to the kitchen.

"Making sure it's not imperturbable?" Ginny asked.

Harry nodded. "I didn't know if Mariah's powers extended to putting Ron's head back on if the axe had rebounded."

"Good plan," Ron muttered, the gleam of excitement gone from his eyes and his face just a bit pale.

He swung the axe at the door with the skill and force of his brothers' legendary Beater skills. It landed dead on between the doorknob and the doorjamb. Either by luck or by design, that was all it took. The moment metal met wood, the door popped open. There was only a millimeter or so of daylight showing through the crack, but it was enough for the three of them to realize it was no longer shut firm. All of them were too eager to see what lay beyond to even bother removing the axe from where it remained, embedded in the wood.

"She's a tidy thing," Ron commented, glancing around the spotless room. It took a moment for it to register _why_ it was so spotless. "Her things are gone."

Harry, who had once helped Faren move into this room, had noticed that immediately. She'd had loads of books, but few personal possessions. All those books were now gone; the shelves that had once borne them empty except for a thin layer of dust. The bed was made up in the sheets Mariah had provided and looked as though no one had ever slept there.

"Not _all_ of her things," Ginny commented from the far corner of the room. She held an old, battered looking book in her hands. The expression on her face was something like horror.

Ron was by her side a second later. "Gin?" he asked, a hand on her shoulder as he looked at what she held.

"It looks like a diary," she said, her voice softer than a whisper. "It looks like _his_ diary."

"That diary is gone," Harry reminded her, now standing on her other side.

"I know that," Ginny said, a bit more defensively than the situation called for, in Harry's opinion.

He tried to take it from her, to see if there was anything written on the pages. He had a vague memory of seeing Faren scribbling furiously in a book of some kind, and he was positive this was that book. He also wanted to compare the handwriting in this book to see if it looked anything like the notes he'd received.

Ginny, however, refused to let go of it. Before Harry could protest, she flipped through the pages and Harry could see for himself that they were all blank. Ginny took a breath, and he could have sworn he heard a slight whimper when she did so.

Ron must have heard it as well. He tried harder to get the book from her hands. Their eyes met and Ron glanced sideways, telling Harry to look at Ginny's face. It had gone as white as chalk, as white as the knuckles now gripping the leather-bound tome.

"Ginny?" Harry asked softly, trying to get the book again. "Maybe we should let Mariah..."

But Ginny wasn't listening. With a twist of her shoulders, Ginny freed herself from their hands on her arms and walked toward the small desk in the corner. She opened it to a page somewhere near the middle. Her hands shaking, she removed a self-inking quill from her robes and placed it on the page in front of her. Harry and Ron moved to peer over her shoulder.

 _Hello_ , Ginny wrote.

There was a pause, during which all three of them held their collective breath as they waited. And then it happened. The word disappeared into the page. They didn't move. They only breathed when their lungs demanded it. Each waited with anticipated dread, staring at the blank page in front of them.

When the words finally appeared, it was almost a relief.

 __

 _WHO IS THIS?_

Ginny let out another muffled whimper and stepped away from the desk. Harry and Ron both turned to go after her, but she held out her hands in a warding off gesture. Harry saw her mouth Draco's name before she disappeared.

Knowing that Draco would be able to comfort her better than either of them, they turned their attention back to the diary. Their eyes met again as they tried to decide who would answer. At a nod from Ron, Harry took up the quill Ginny had left behind and bent over the parchment.

 _Harry Potter_ , he wrote.

The delay in answering was less this go around and the reply came glistening back within seconds.

 __

 _Beloved..._

This time it was Harry who took a few uneasy steps back, eyes fixed on the word as it faded.

His first instinct was to start writing; to demand that he be left alone, that his family be left alone. To ask who she was and why she was making his life a living hell. There was so much worry and anger bottled up inside him, he wanted this outlet. He wanted to spew all his pent up ire at this woman. Reason regained control of him before he reached the small writing desk. Mr. Weasley's warning to Ginny during second year echoed in his head. There was no way to be positive that whoever was on the other side of this diary was, in fact, his stalker. It probably was. After all, who else called him "Beloved" these days? But without knowing for certain, Harry would leave it be. He laid the quill on the desktop and flipped the cover shut.

"Mariah?" Harry asked, his voice a tremor of fear and anger as he turned to face Ron.

"I think so," Ron agreed, taking up the journal and crossing to the door. He waited until Harry had passed into the landing before pulling the door shut by the axe.

"Give it to me," Mariah said before Harry could even ask. She was standing at the open door to their flat, her hand outstretched.

"Handy, that communication thing," Harry commented, forcing a smile to his face.

"Saves time," Ron replied, shrugging.

Mariah took the journal and held it in both hands, palms flat against the front and back leather covers. Her fingers splayed before moving to flip through the pages. Her eyes remained firmly closed, her breathing was soft and measured. It seemed forever before she finally opened them and sighed.

"Nothing?" Harry said, knowing her answer by the look in her eyes, but needing to ask anyway.

"Nothing," she confirmed, but there was something else in her eyes now. Confusion. "Nothing at all."

Ron caught on before Harry did. "Shouldn't there at least be a sense of Harry or Ginny? They just had the book in their hands."

"Got it in one, love," Mariah smiled at him. Their eyes met and held and Harry had an uneasy feeling, like he had somehow stumbled across them making love. Even though Ron and Mariah were fully clothed and standing five feet apart, Harry turned his back and gave a discreet cough.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, and Harry turned to find his best friend grinning at him.

Harry waved off Ron's apology and grinned in return. In truth, no matter his own inner turmoil, he was happier than he knew how to express that Ron and Mariah had found each other. He'd be hard pressed to say just _what_ he'd expected of the woman who would eventually win his best mate's heart, and he couldn't honestly say he'd pictured anyone like Mariah. But thinkings and supposings didn't matter. Ron and Mariah had found each other and battled over seemingly insurmountable odds to stay together. Through that struggle they had, in essence, become one being in two bodies. If that meant having to witness the occasional intimate moment, it was a price Harry was more than happy to pay.

"So what, exactly, does it mean that you can't sense _anyone_ on that book?" Harry asked Mariah.

"I don't know for sure," she said. But there was something in her face that told him she had a pretty good idea. "I'll need to go...somewhere to see if it's what I think it is."

"Where?" Harry asked, none too chuffed at having the diary taken out of his possession.

"To Kalena."

Mariah offered no further explanation, and Harry knew that any inquiries would be left unanswered as well. Although she was learning to be more open about her Diviner powers as she grew to accept them, she was still very closemouthed about the Order as a whole. Ron had told him that as much as she hated secrets, she would keep the Order's. As for keeping Kalena's location a secret, Harry knew it was the only way she could protect her niece.

Fastening her traveling cloak at her neck, Mariah walked over to Ron and pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning to Harry. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she assured him. A loud _crack_ later and he and Ron were alone.

Almost as if she knew her mum was no longer in the vicinity, Rianne began to fuss in her crib. Ron and Harry shared a brief commiserating glance before Harry left the flat. Jamie usually napped well in the afternoons, but the other witch in his house was probably pacing a hole in the floor waiting for him to return. Truth be told, he was half shocked that she hadn't stuck her head through Ron's fire to try and overhear.

With that thought foremost in his mind, Harry bypassed the short walk and Apparated to the front door. He reached out to open the front door, but it was pulled open from the inside before he could grasp the knob. Hermione was standing in the now open doorway looking both anxious and annoyed, her arms crossed across her chest and her eyebrows raised.

"Well?" she said without preamble.

"Well what?" Harry sighed, edging past her into the house.

"Well, what do you think of England's chances in the World Cup this year?" Hermione asked, exasperation dripping from her words. Harry merely raised his eyebrow at her tone. She must have read some of what he was thinking because when she joined him on the couch, she took his hand and softened her voice. "What did you find in the flat?"

"Nothing much, unfortunately. The flat was almost empty, Hermione," he told her. Her eyes narrowed and he felt her small hand squeeze his.

"Almost?"

Nodding, Harry told her of the journal and what he'd seen in it. He told her what had happened to Ginny as well. He wasn't quite prepared for the play of emotions across her face. As he spoke, he saw anger, fear, confusion, and disbelief warring for dominance. He couldn't be sure, but he believed that anger won out.

Harry wasn't sure where that anger was directed, whether towards him for timing it so she couldn't be there or towards the stalker. Right now, he'd say the odds were about even on both options.

"Where is the journal now?" she asked when he'd finished.

"Mariah took it off to Kalena. She seemed a bit intrigued that she couldn't sense _anyone's_ presence on the book. I think she has a theory, but didn't want to say anything until she'd checked."

"Why was Ginny there?" Hermione asked, almost as if to herself.

"Apart from her incessant curiosity, you mean?" Harry asked.

"There is that," Hermione agreed. She fell silent for a moment, staring at their joined hands, the space between her eyebrows crinkling as she thought. "I just can't believe it, Harry."

"Believe what, love?" Harry sighed, leaning his head back onto the sofa.

"That we were duped so badly. That all the time we've spent wondering who was behind all the letters and chaos and it turns out she's right under our nose."

Harry didn't say anything. He couldn't. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, he still didn't believe it was Faren. Hermione must have picked up on his reticence. She turned to him, crossing her legs on the sofa. It mirrored her position from this morning, but he felt no comfort coming from her now. All he felt was annoyance.

"Harry?" she questioned, her eyes now searching his face for some evidence of what he was thinking. "You can't still think she's innocent in all of this?"

Again, Harry remained mute. Green and brown eyes locked together. Harry was the first to look away.

"You do?" she huffed, incredulity evident in both her words and her face. "How can you after what just happened?"

"Hang on, Hermione," Harry began, holding up a hand to stop her before she could get up a good head of steam. "I'm not saying she's innocent in all aspects. Her disappearance worries me, as does the diary we found in her flat. But I don't believe she's the one who's been sending the letters." He expelled a great breath when he finished and braced himself for the storm he knew was approaching.

"And on what do you base that astute assumption?" she asked, one single eyebrow a testament to the tirade she was obviously trying to keep from uttering.

"Because I know her, Hermione. Probably better than anyone. When you were away, we spent a lot of time together, and I never, in all of that time, felt anything from her but friendship."

"Harry, that was months and months ago. If memory serves, that was before the letters began arriving, wasn't it? In fact, the first letter came not long after I returned."

"So?" Harry asked, inwardly wincing at his childish tone.

"So, she probably got used to playing house with you when I was gone and decided she wanted that all the time. It's the only explanation. Look at your list, Harry," Hermione said, indicating the parchpad still on the coffee table in front of them, "who else had access to all of Jamie's things, the ones that have disappeared?"

"Anyone who can perform a summoning charm?" Harry suggested, still churlish.

Hermione shook her head. "Who else would know that those were her favorites?"

"Hermione, we don't even know that those things are related to this. Not for sure. They could have all just been misplaced."

"Misplaced, right," Hermione spat out, rising from the sofa as if she couldn't contain her anger properly if she wasn't moving. "Okay then, let's set that aside for now."

Hermione began to pace in front of the fireplace, her hands clenching and unclenching. Harry could almost hear her teeth grinding from where he sat watching her.

"How do you explain what just happened with the journal?"

Harry didn't even have to think about that one, he'd thought of nothing else since he'd left Ron's. "Do you remember how Riddle's diary worked?" he asked, waiting while she nodded. "Ginny wrote and Riddle wrote back. Logic says..." and here Harry waited until she stopped pacing. He knew she would. Hermione was a sucker for logic.

"Logically," he repeated, "whoever wrote 'Beloved' in that journal was the person Faren was talking _to_ , not Faren herself."

"Perhaps," Hermione stated after a brief, silent deliberation. "But you're assuming that because it _looked_ like Riddle's diary that it also _works_ like his diary, and that's a dangerous assumption, Harry. Perhaps she charmed the diary to talk back to her."

"You're guessing," Harry said, anger rising in his voice.

"So are you!" Hermione's voice was near to shaking with righteous indignation. "Are you choosing to ignore that Faren, her whole persona, was created solely for the purpose of landing her in this house as our nanny?"

"Of course I'm not ignoring that, Hermione," Harry spat back. "I'm as puzzled as you are about it. I'm just saying that there's a very strong possibility that one thing has nothing to do with the other."

Hermione stared at Harry. Her mouth was opening and closing like a trout desperate for water. Before she could articulate what she was thinking, however, Jamie let out a piercing cry from upstairs. Their raised voices had, no doubt, awakened their daughter. It wasn't a sound Jamie was used to. Harry hoped with everything in him that she _never_ got used to it. Based on the acid fairly spitting from his wife's eyes, their argument was far from over, however. They'd just have to try and keep their voices down while they continued it. Or, declare a truce until she was asleep again that evening.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed awkwardly. The tension between Harry and Hermione grew as each minute passed, but they were both loathe to continue their argument in Jamie's presence. By mutual, silent agreement, they tabled any further discussion of the matter until she was settled for the night.

That turned out to be the wrong decision. They didn't speak at all, except to Jamie. By the time she was finally laid in her crib for the night, each had spent the afternoon dealing with an increasingly fussy baby and mulling over what the other had said. Hermione remained upstairs after putting Jamie down. He heard water in their bathroom and left her to soak in their oversized tub. He wanted to join her, but knew he would not be welcome. Not until they resolved this. And Hermione would _not_ want to continue the conversation naked. Instead, Harry spent the evening staring into the fire as if the answers to all that plagued him would leap out of the flames.

The clock on the mantle struck ten and Harry knew it was time to face his wife. Dread slowed his progress towards the stairs. It churned in his stomach like something alive and trying desperately to get out. He didn't want to fight, or even disagree, with Hermione. He hated it. At the same time, however, he refused to back down simply to keep the peace. Maybe he'd be proven wrong, but only time would tell that. In the meantime, he could only go by the guidance of his own instincts.

Gathering up his Gryffindor courage, Harry mounted the steps. He found her already in bed, lying on her side with her back to his side of the bed. Sighing, he shed his clothes, placed his glasses on the side table and climbed under the blankets. He let the silence reign for a moment, and then placed a hand on her shoulder in a silent plea for her to look at him. She complied.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" they both said at the same time.

"I'm stubborn?" Hermione hissed. "About what, Harry? Wanting to keep you safe?"

"I'm not a child, Hermione. I've been known to keep myself safe for years now. I can do up my own laces and everything."

Hermione glared at him, ire shooting from her eyes at his sarcasm. He ignored it.

"I could make the same argument, Harry Potter. Don't even try to deny that you arranged to go into that flat at a time when I'd be here with Jamie."

"I don't deny it," Harry said, checking himself to keep his voice low enough so as not to disturb his daughter. "And I had my reasons -- just as I'm sure you have yours. We're married; we love each other. Wanting to keep the other safe goes hand in hand with that. But I'm not going to bend to your mindset about Faren, either. Which means, I suppose, that I'm being stubborn because I refuse to see everything _your_ way."

"What, precisely, is that supposed to mean?" Her voice was a whisper, but the ice covering it could have frozen the Atlantic.

"Ever since we were children, Hermione, you've always known you were right, about everything. From elf rights to my Firebolt. I'll grant you that you usually were. It's just," Harry paused before plunging on, "you've never been gracious about finding out that you weren't. Is it so impossible for you to believe that you might not be right in this situation? That you might just be jumping to the wrong conclusion?"

"It's not impossible for me to believe that, Harry," Hermione sighed, "just damned improbable. All of the evidence, ALL of the facts point to her. Maybe you're just too enamored with her to realize it."

Harry sat straight up keeping his eyes on hers. "What, precisely, is that supposed to mean?" His voice was just as cold as hers had been a moment earlier when she'd said the same thing. "Do you expect me to believe that you think I have...what... _feelings_ for Faren? That I was attracted to her romantically?"

"I'm not saying that at all," she placated. "But it goes back to what you said earlier, that you spent so much time together when I was gone. And I think that time is coloring your judgment of what's happening _now._ "

Hermione had nothing else to say, apparently, because she turned over and presented her back to him again. Eventually, they both fell asleep. It wasn't an easy sleep for either of them. In the past, when one was restless, the other was there to comfort. Tonight, there was no comfort to be found.

Even though there was only a foot of space between them, the chasm was wider than the Urals.

*^*^*^*^*^

Across town, Draco wasn't sleeping any easier. He lay in bed, Ginny curled into him like a spoon in a drawer, and tried to relax. Relax...right. It would have been easier to resurrect Salazar Slytherin for a quick game of Quidditch. Ginny trembled beside him and he tightened the arm around her waist. He wasn't sure if it was sympathy or empathy, but he felt a shiver run down his own spine. Ever since Ginny had arrived in his office that afternoon, all but speechless with some unknown fear, he'd been fighting that shiver.

He hadn't been able to get much out of her at first. He'd dismissed his assistants from his office and had enfolded his trembling wife in his arms. She'd been mumbling; the only word he'd been able to discern was "Tom". That in itself was enough to scare him green. Anything that brought her experiences from first year back was bad, but to have her seek him out at work...

He knew now that her ordeal with Riddle's diary had left scars so deep, time had never fully healed them. She could go months without incident and then, without warning, he'd be awakened in the night as her unconscious mind recalled and snared her in yet another nightmare that ended with her screaming Riddle's name.

Riddle. Voldemort. The owner of the diary he'd been instrumental in giving to her even though it hadn't been his hand that had dropped it into hers.

He could still remember his father's words before they'd left the mansion for Diagon Alley that morning. _Confront them, Draco. That will give me the opening I need to approach them._ Desperate to know why his father wanted to get near the Weasleys, Draco had come within a hair's breadth of asking. But he hadn't. Lucius Malfoy disliked being questioned by anyone, least of all by his son. So, Draco had performed as commanded and had let the occurrence drift into the recesses of his twelve year old mind. Before long, Quidditch, and beating Potter at anything and everything, became the center of his life. Even as all hell began to break loose at Hogwarts, he'd placed no significance on his brief quarrel with Harry and Ron before the start of term or his father's strange request.

It wasn't until years later, when Ginny had come barreling back into his life, that he'd found out just _what_ had transpired that day inside Flourish and Blotts. He was man enough to admit that, if he'd known at the time what his father was doing, he'd have thought it a grand idea.

Little did he know back then that, in the full course of time and circumstances, he'd want to go back to that day and stay hidden in the shadows as Potter and the Weasleys left the shop. That he'd tell his past self to risk the wrath of his father's cane to spare Ginny the nightmares she still carried with her from her first year. As he held her through another bout of trembling, he wanted that more than he wanted his next breath. But that wouldn't help Ginny now. It was one of the things she'd taught him. That changing the past wasn't the answer...the answer was dealing with it and moving on. He supposed that in that sense, he and Harry were very much owls of a feather.

Once they'd arrived back at the house, Draco had sat in the large armchair by the fire and held her fast in his arms as she'd stared blankly at the flames slowly consuming the wood. He knew her well enough to know that she needed calm and quiet before she could tell him what was wrong. He'd given her that. The silence had seemed to last hours, during which he'd kneaded the knots at the base of her neck, and whispered nonsensical things when she started shaking.

After what seemed an eternity, Ginny had finally calmed enough to tell him what had happened. Her cold voice had given him shivers, as if the sound of her voice was somehow chilling his blood. The tale had come spilling from her lips with no more inflection than Binns had used during lectures. When she'd finished, she'd heaved a great sigh and jumped off his lap to begin preparing their dinner.

Draco wasn't fooled, however. There was something else; something that bothered her even more than being reminded of her possession by Voldemort. It was that something that was haunting her now as she slept, but she'd just shaken her head when he'd tried to draw it out of her earlier that evening.

Ginny jerked out of the restless slumber she'd fallen into a few hours ago; her eyes the only indication of the dream she'd pulled herself out of. Even in the room's darkness, he could see the whites of her eyes like beacons through the gloom. He didn't care for seeing his wife wide-eyed in terror. He cared even less for the sense of powerlessness; for his inability to do anything about it.

"Red?" he whispered, using his wand to light the candles scattered here and there throughout the room.

"I'm okay," she responded, the crack in her voice proving otherwise.

"No, you're not," he countered. "Talk to me, Gin. Please. Something else is bothering you, I know it. I know what happened with the diary shook you, but that's not all, is it?"

"So when did you get to know me so well?" she asked. It heartened Draco to hear the smile in her voice, to feel her body relax slightly in his arms. "You're right," she sighed, "there is more."

Taking a deep breath, she plunged on. "Seeing the words appear in that diary, just like Tom's did, frightened me, reminded me, but beyond that initial shock...I don't know, Draco. I just couldn't shake it. I started thinking about what Sabastian said to me, remember? That the dark energy from Voldemort lingers in me? That it's what drew us to each other?" Ginny took another deep breath. "That it's just a matter of time before I succumb to that," she finished quietly. As she'd told him, she'd sat up and turned to face him.

Relief flowed into Draco, the tidal wave of it so strong he felt like laughing. He had known from the monotonal way she'd told him about Faren's diary that there was something lingering in her, some unspoken fear. Knowledge was power, and now that he knew what it was they could set about fighting it. Together.

"Let me ask you something," he murmured, his finger lifting her chin until they were eye to eye. Once he had her full attention, he continued. "Do you think I've changed? From the Slytherin you knew in school?" He felt another insane urge to laugh as he watched her hackles rise as they always did when she defended him.

"Of course you have, Draco. I've told you over and over that you're so different, that you've come so far from that boy. Pardon the pun, but you've shed that skin entirely and you damned well know it. I won't have you thinking for one minute that..."

Draco kissed her before she could get her speech rolling. "Now then, if _I've_ changed so much, if I was able to move past being raised by Death Eaters and trained in dark magic from birth, how can you think that Voldemort's brief possession of you could ever change what's in your heart?"

He let that question sink in while he drew her into his arms and lowered her to the bed. "And if there is some lingering darkness in you that drew you to me, then I thank the heavens for it daily."

Draco let his lips fall to hers again, caressing her mouth gently before deepening the kiss. He wanted to keep it light and loving, but she wouldn't let him. The moment his tongue touched hers, she pressed her mouth more fully to his. Her hands rose to fist in the hair at the nape of his neck and kept his mouth where she wanted it. Then she went on the attack. He loved it when she kissed him this way, as if she couldn't get enough of him. Knowing that she needed to reassert a little control somewhere, Draco made the ultimate sacrifice and let her have her way with him.

"Let me ask you a question," Ginny said when she came up for air, keeping her hands fisted in his hair. "If I hadn't shown up at the mansion that day, would you have come looking for me?"

"Probably not," he said, completely blank faced.

Ginny pulled back from him and locked her eyes with his. She hooked a leg around him and rolled him until she was perched on his lap. "Oh really?" she said, holding his gaze. His only answer was a slow slide into a devilish smile.

"Really," he admitted. "If you'll recall, I kept trying to get away from you in the beginning, offering to leave you to keep the peace with your family. You wouldn't let me."

"Damn right," she grinned back. "You're stuck with me, Draco Malfoy. You have been since that first kiss. Deal with it."

And deal with it he did. Several times. By the time they collapsed into a sated sleep, arms wrapped firmly around each other, their minds were free of fear and worry. Satisfied smiles remained on their faces, all traces of the day's events wiped away by love, both physical and emotional. Draco's last thought before sinking into unconsciousness was of Potter telling him that love was what defeated Voldemort in the end. He felt that he now knew precisely how that was possible.

*^*^*^*^

Ron was dozing on the couch when Mariah popped her head through the fireplace.

 _Ron,_ she called to him mentally, knowing that she could shout to the rooftop and not wake him. Even speaking to his mind, she had to call several times before his eyes fluttered open.

"You're going to spoil her, Ron," Mariah said, in reference to their daughter, sprawled out and fast asleep on Ron's chest.

"We were just commiserating and I guess we both nodded off," he yawned.

"Commiserating?"

"Yeah, we were both missing her mum."

Mariah smiled. "I miss you two, too. But I have to stay here for a bit." She said nothing more, not vocally or in his mind. And that silence spoke volumes.

"Okay," he said, letting her feel his grudging acceptance. "Is it what you thought?" She'd given him her suspicions mentally before she'd left, because Harry was with them.

"I can't say any more, Ron. I wish I could. But keep an eye out for Sa--for Faren. I have a feeling she's still somewhere in Hogsmeade and won't be hiding for very much longer. I need to talk to her."

"I think there's a line of people waiting for that privilege, Mariah," Ron commented sardonically.

"And for all the wrong reasons," Mariah said, so quietly he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. Before he could ask her to elaborate, however, she glanced over her shoulder and muttered something he couldn't hear. "I have to go. Give Rianne a kiss from me when you put her to bed. If all goes well, I should be back sometime late tomorrow afternoon."

"Love you, angel," Ron said, blowing her a kiss before her head disappeared from the flames.

He rose from the couch and went to put his sleeping daughter down for the night. He glanced briefly at his watch. It was half past two in the morning. Too late to go Apparating over to Harry and Hermione's to let them know what little he'd learned. More to the point, it might be better to wait until he had more concrete information for them before rushing over there.

He'd wait to see exactly what Mariah had meant by "all the wrong reasons", and why she'd almost called Faren by a different name.

*^*^*^*^*

When night had given way to morning and dawn broke through their bedroom window, Harry and Hermione awakened. Despite their argument of the night before, they'd apparently turned to each other in sleep and now found themselves wrapped in the other's arms. For long moments, their eyes remained fixed; as if they could say what needed to be said simply by looking, by searching their souls like they always had. After a while, it became apparent that they needed the words as well.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison. A small smile graced Hermione's face, widening when its twin appeared on Harry's.

They made quiet love before the realities of the morning infringed on their lives. Before Jamie woke up, before it was time to head off to their students, before they could start thinking about all that had happened over the last twenty four hours. Their disagreement still lingered between them, but its importance seemed somewhat lessened as they basked in the love they shared. The truth would come out in time; and it wouldn't matter who was right. For now, what mattered was that they face these tense days together, united, just as they'd faced every other obstacle life had thrown them since they were eleven years old.

Jamie seemed to pick up on the end of the conflict. She'd been fussy and easy to tears the previous evening, but this morning she was all smiles and gurgles for her parents. They took turns feeding and playing with her as they got their things together for the coming day: Harry gathering essays and lesson sheets for his classes, Hermione doing the same while also packing a bag for Jamie to keep her occupied while she taught.

"With any luck," she said, stuffing the bag with snacks and bottles, "she'll nap during my classes. Although that does seem to upset my students."

"Upset them?" Harry asked.

"Mmmm," she said, searching the kitchen for anything she may have forgotten. "Especially the seventh years. They love it when she's awake. They pass her around the class like a Quaffle."

Harry got a hearty chuckle at the image of his daughter being transferred and entertained by student after student. "I've got one open class slot today," he said, "right after lunch. I think I'll pop over to Ron's and see if he's heard anything from Mariah."

His face was blank, but inwardly he was waiting to see if the truce held. Mentioning the diary, even this indirectly, was the first either of them had said that came close to the topic of their argument the night before. But Hermione merely nodded.

"Good idea. I was going to suggest going over there this evening. But I'd rather know sooner over later. Just promise me that you'll come tell me whatever you learn."

"I'll come straight to your classroom after I leave. Shall I Floo in, then?"

"To my _office,"_ she grinned. "I don't think the girls in my afternoon double period could take the sight of you stepping into the classroom. It'll probably send all the papers flying with all the sighing they'll do." Harry merely raised an eyebrow while Hermione giggled. "You really don't have any clue, do you?" she grinned.

"About what?"

"About your appeal to almost every witch."

"Come on, Hermione," Harry said, trying not to blush.

"I'm afraid it's true, love," Hermione replied, trying not to enjoy his embarrassment too much. "I'm quite the envied witch. Your secret admirer isn't the only one that wishes she were in my robes. Or, more to the point, in yours."

Harry goggled at her, at the devilish twinkle to her brown eyes. He felt his heart fill with love at her ability to lighten his mood with humor over something that had had them at odds for most of the previous day. He pulled her close in his arms and leaned down to brush a quick kiss on her lips, but a small squawk from the table halted his forward progress.

"Mamadadamamadada."

They turned in unison towards their daughter, who was looking straight at them, her chubby cheeks stretched in a smile.

"Harry, did she...?" Hermione was afraid to trust her own ears. Jamie had been babbling for some time, using various consonant/vowel combinations for just about everything around her. But this was the first time she'd directed a babble _at_ something and been somewhat right. They turned towards each other, then looked back at Jamie, their arms still around one another, and stared. They were both mentally willing her to repeat herself.

"Mamadada!" Jamie squealed again, waving two chubby fists in the air before reaching for them.

Neither of them could move. They stood stock still, feet rooted to the ground, staring openmouthed at their daughter, both sets of eyes misting.

"Mamadada!" Jamie said, more insistent this time.

Hermione's feet uprooted themselves first. Grinning through her tears, she released Jamie from her high chair and swung the baby in a circle. "Who's my big girl?" she asked, pressing kisses to chubby baby cheeks. She walked over to where Harry stood watching them and passed Jamie into his arms. The moment his arms enveloped her, Jamie raised her arms in the air in silent plea for what she loved most. Harry acquiesced and lifted her high into the air then brought her down to blow bubbles on her exposed belly.

Once she was pacified with the game, Harry cradled her on his hip with one arm and drew Hermione into the embrace with his other.

"Mamadada," Jamie said again to the joyous grins of her parents.

Their eyes left their daughter to focus on each other. In that one instant, they were able to put away everything else. Stalkers, disappearing nannies, letters, chaos...all of it fled as their eyes held. The universe pared itself down to the bare basics for Harry in that moment. His wife and his daughter. His world. The rest of it wasn't worth the ash in the fireplace.

Harry tried to communicate this to his wife, and by the new tears glistening in her eyes, he knew she got the general gist.

"I love you, too," she said, rising up on her toes to place her lips against his.

^*^*^*^

Hermione sat at her desk, trying desperately not to laugh. Her seventh years were finishing up their essays, busily scratching away with paper and pen. Those that were Muggle born and/or raised were having no difficulty whatsoever. But the few in her class that were raised solely by witches and wizards were having a devil of a time. Knowing her mind was too preoccupied with her life outside the school, Hermione had decided to give them an impromptu test. A test in which they had to use Muggle writing implements. The occasional mutter of swearing when the erasing spell didn't work on the Muggle paper or ink had her biting the insides of her cheeks to keep the giggles in.

She was also fighting the urge to check her watch, or nip back into her office. Harry had told her that he'd be going to see Ron at lunch and would come straight to her office to tell her if there was any news about Faren's journal. It was now half past two and he was still a no show.

The bell signaling the end of the lesson brought many sighs of relief from her students as well as her request for them to bring their papers up to her for grading. She was just putting them into their proper file when a voice sounded over the voices of her students trading grievances over the task she'd set them.

"Professor Granger?"

Hermione turned towards the door to her classroom. She motioned for the girl to join her at her desk as the collective noise level in the classroom rose.

"Yes, Annika?" She didn't notice until the girl was right in front of her, but Annika seemed quite upset about something. "What is it?"

"It's Katia," she said, her voice trembling. "There's been some kind of accident."

Hermione's mind recalled the image of the young Gryffindor falling to the floor after Jamie's dedication. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. I just saw them taking her to the hospital wing. She's unconscious. Professor McGonagall was levitating her, and I heard her say something about her being attacked. I...I thought you'd want to know. "

"Has anyone told Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure. He wasn't in his office when I checked. I went there first, since it's closer."

Hermione felt a renewed sense of unease over what could possibly be taking him so long with Ron, but that was for later. She needed to get to the hospital wing to see Katia. And then she remembered that Jamie was asleep in her office. Madam Pomfrey would be delighted to see the baby, Hermione knew, but she was a bit leery of taking the baby into the hospital wing. The Hogwarts' nurse might be a marvel at healing, and it sounded like Katia had been deliberately hurt rather than taken ill, but Hermione wasn't taking any chances with her daughter's health.

Not to mention that she was loathe to wake Jamie. Naps were her few times of blessed peace, and if Jamie's were cut short, they all paid for the rest of the day.

She was just resigning herself to use the fire to contact Poppy when an idea hit her. She took a moment to size up the student in front of her. Harry spoke very highly of her achievements and her abilities and, according to him, she had a real shot at being accepted into the Auror Institute after this year. Surely she could be trusted with Jamie for the few moments it would take Hermione to get to the hospital wing. Jamie knew her and would probably sleep through the whole thing, anyway.

"Annika, could I ask you to stay here with Jamie while I dash up to check on Katia?"

"Of course, Professor," Annika replied, voice still shaky. "Will you tell her that I'll be by later and that I'm thinking of her if she's awake?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled, glad to see that the bond between housemates was as strong as it had been in her time as a student. "Jamie's still asleep and I doubt she'll wake up before I get back."

Annika merely nodded before dropping her bag onto one of the desks and sitting at it. "I won't mind if she does. In the meantime, I've got some Dark Arts stuff to catch up on. I was on my way to the library to do it, but I'll get started on it here."

"Thanks, Annika," Hermione smiled before rushing from the room, trying to think of the fastest way to reach the hospital wing from here. Using secret passages she recalled from earlier days, she made it there in record time.

Poppy was standing with Minerva, their heads close together as they spoke quietly. "Minerva, Poppy," Hermione panted, still catching her breath, "I just heard. How is she?"

"Still unconscious," Minerva replied in her no-nonsense tone. "And we haven't a clue how she got that way. David says he found her on the floor in one of the empty Transfiguration classrooms. I asked Sara to take a look around down there to see if she could find anything that would indicate how this happened after she told you about Katia."

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Minerva that she hadn't seen Sara, but knew it was of no consequence. Hermione had taken shortcuts all through Hogwarts in her haste to reach the hospital wing and the odds of them crossing paths were next to nil. Annika would tell Sara that she'd already come here.

Hermione stayed only long enough to gather assurances from Poppy that the nurse would inform her the moment Katia awakened. She hoped that Sara would be able to find some clue as to what happened to the young Gryffindor. The poor girl had been through quite enough this year. She suppressed a small smile over Poppy's complaint that David and Zach were once again refusing to leave her side.

A tingle of unease pricked the back of Hermione's neck as she neared her classroom. Unease with a touch of panic. A feeling she hadn't had since she was a seventh year and Harry's confrontation with Voldemort was still looming on the horizon. Almost against her will, her feet began to move faster until she was all but running towards her classroom.

She didn't even try to stop the scream when her eyes fell upon the unconscious body and the empty cradle.

*^^*^*^*^*^*

Harry left Ron's apartment almost wishing he hadn't made the journey. No news was...well, it was no news. And bloody frustrating to boot. To top it all, he _knew_ Ron knew something. The man's ears didn't go that shade of scarlet when he was being completely honest. Anger, embarrassment and lies were the only things that made it look like he was sporting tomatoes on the sides of his head.

He hadn't been angry, and he sure as hell hadn't been embarrassed. He'd just calmly told Harry that he hadn't heard from Mariah at all while his ears had gone steadily redder. But he'd respected his best friend enough, and was married enough, to know that some things you just can't say, no matter how much you may want to. Ron would never urge him to divulge Hermione's secrets; so he hadn't pushed Ron. He'd merely shaken his hand and taken his leave.

Even though he knew Hermione was waiting not-so-patiently for him to return and tell her about his meeting with Ron, Harry detoured to the house to pick up some papers he'd left behind this morning. Summoning charms were all well and good, but when a man needed to gather his thoughts before facing his wife, fetching things the Muggle way was the only way to go.

His mind on other things, Harry was unprepared for the hair on the nape of his neck to stand up the moment he crossed the threshold of his house. Something wasn't right here. The door handle had turned easily, but that was not a reliable indicator of it having been unlocked. The recognition charm Hermione had used at their Hogwarts' rooms was in place here as well. He closed the door slowly behind him, keeping as still and quiet as he could. That's when he heard it. A soft shuffling of footsteps directly overhead...in Jamie's nursery.

The mental debate over Apparating straight up there versus using the stairs took seconds only. The stairs creaked. Whoever was up there would undoubtedly hear him and Disapparate before he could get there. On the other hand, he wasn't too keen on Apparating into the room. If it was Hermione, he'd scare her into next week. If it was someone with ill intent, he couldn't be sure that he'd arrive facing him or her. In the end, he decided to plan his arrival for right outside the door.

Harry allowed himself another second's pause once outside Jamie's door, hazarding a glance through the slight crack between door and doorjamb. He could see the outline of someone standing next to Jamie's crib, leaning into it. A cloaked someone. A cloaked someone he didn't recognize.

The door made no noise when he pushed it open, wand pointed in front of him. "Can I help you?" he said, braced for action.

He nearly dropped his wand when the intruder turned to face him.

It was Faren. A Faren that hadn't been a close friend of a good night's sleep (based on the shadows beneath her eyes) since the last time he'd seen her. A Faren holding a sealed envelope in one hand and her wand in the other.

"Harry," she gasped, her wand hand going to her chest.

"What are you doing here, Faren?" Harry asked, not lowering his wand.

"I wanted...I had to...I...this is for you," she said, her voice trembling. Whether it was from being startled or being caught, Harry didn't know. And her face was giving nothing away.

"What is it?" His voice was cold. At his words, and tone, her face became a study in confusion, as if she couldn't understand the chill in his voice. Truth be told, he wasn't sure himself. No matter what Hermione had said, he'd never believed that she was responsible for the letters, that she was the stalker. But those firm convictions took a direct hit when he'd seen her near his daughter's crib...when he'd seen what was in her hand. Even from this distance he could tell it wasn't parchment. It was a Muggle envelope.

"It's a letter. I had to try and explain before..." she trailed off. Her eyes, still locked on his, suddenly glazed over, as if she was focusing inward rather than on him. He gave her a moment of quiet; he felt he owed her that much. But when she spoke again, his last thought was that perhaps that hadn't been the wisest course of action. Her mouth was twisting into some sort of mad smile. For a moment, he was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. She looked like an entirely different person.

"I didn't think I'd have this opportunity," Faren said, almost to herself. Her voice was hollow, and her eyes still slightly unfocused. "I thought he'd have time to read the letter. To understand. But no matter." She shook her head absently. "No, it doesn't matter. It's time."

Harry hadn't felt this lost since Hagrid had shown up at the hut on the rock the night of his eleventh birthday. He wasn't sure what to think, what to do. Faren continued to mutter to herself, but he couldn't make out the words. He'd tried to interrupt her, but she didn't seem to hear him. She just continued mumbling.

He was just about to take a step towards her when several things happened at once. Harry heard a creak on the floorboard outside the nursery, he saw Faren raise her wand towards him, and felt two spells pass on either side of his head. He raised his own wand in defense, but it was too late. The spell hit him on the side of his head.

He had time for one final thought, _Hermione!_ before the world went black.

*^*^*^*^*

Harry came back to consciousness by degrees. His hearing was the first of his senses to return. There was a woman talking nearby. He hadn't a clue how much time had passed since the...whatever it was...had hit him. Hoping that sight was available, Harry opened his eyes cautiously. Based on his view of the room, Harry realized that he had been moved. He was sitting in Jamie's room, on the floor near the window. He tried to stand and failed miserably. It felt as though he was under the body binding curse. His arms and legs were completely useless. He could move his head, but didn't want to draw any undue attention to his now wakeful state, so he kept those movements to a bare minimum.

From his vantage point, he could see a single foot near the half closed nursery door, but from this angle, he couldn't tell _whose_ foot it was. Deciding to end the mystery once and for all, Harry turned towards the sound of the voice he'd heard. It had sounded familiar.

 _What the bloody hell is_ she _doing here?_ he thought as his eyes focused and he saw who was holding his daughter.

She was looking at him with adoration, with love, and with eyes that said if she wasn't insane now, she was damned close to it.

"You're finally awake, my beloved," she crooned over the top of his daughter's head. "We're together at last."


	9. Chapter 9

For all intents and purposes, Ron would think later, the day had started out ordinarily enough. He'd awakened early, rolling over to curl Mariah into his side and waking instantly when he found that the bed was empty. When his brain finally caught up, he had remembered that she was still with Kalena. Resigned to another day apart, he'd staggered into the kitchen to make some very strong tea and get Rianne's breakfast ready. Mariah was fond of telling people that their daughter had _her_ eyes and _his_ appetite. He was inordinately pleased when she did that.

 _Speak of the devil_ , he'd thought as his daughter began to fuss.

They'd spent a rather tame day together: Ron working behind the counter at Weasley's and Rianne entertaining the customers. He'd left the shop in the helper's hands while he'd fed Rianne her lunch and fed Harry a load of bollocks. Lying had never come naturally to him, and he knew that today was no exception. Harry had glanced way too many times at his ears during their conversation, confirming that Harry had bought precious little of the bull he had been so inexpertly spouting. Damn the betraying things, anyway.

Once he'd closed the door behind Harry, Ron had cleaned Rianne's face and removed her from her high chair. Deciding to take some time just for them, he'd taken his wand out and filled the room with bubbles for her to crawl after on the floor. An hour later, he was still berating himself. And trying to rationalize his actions with the only person available for discussion.

"I don't think he believed me," Ron told Rianne as she batted bubbles to and fro. "But it's not like I was lying to him." Rianne stopped her game and looked up at him. "Not completely. I mean, it's not as if I was keeping anything from him. I _don't_ really have any information. Not solid information, anyway. Nothing that would set his mind at ease, or answer any questions." Rianne continued to stare at him. "Okay, I was lying."

"And you lie horribly," Mariah said from behind him.

Ron spun around and jumped to his feet in alarm while Rianne simply cooed and crawled over and pulled up on Mariah's robes, demanding attention. In one swift motion, Mariah gathered up her daughter and leaned past her to greet Ron properly. A few moments later, Rianne became bored with watching her parents smash their faces together and requested, quite loudly, her fair share.

Once both the loves of her life were appeased, Mariah went into the kitchen and began clearing the dishes that Ron had left from Rianne's lunch. Ron remained where he was, rocking side to side on his feet.

"You having problems over there?" she asked, magicking the now clean baby dishes into a cabinet.

"Shouldn't we be heading over to Harry's? To the school? What happened with Kalena? Did you figure out what was up with the diary? Why did you call Faren by a different name?"

"Whoa, big fella," Mariah laughed, holding up her hands. "One at a time. Yes, we should be heading over to see Hermione. She's got a class now, so there's no real rush. Harry will be heading back there as well, right?" Ron nodded. "I think after classes tonight will be time enough to inform them of all that I've learned. As for Faren..."

Mariah stopped and stared off into space. Ron was growing accustomed to that look by now. She was seeing something, whether past or future he couldn't tell. But he knew enough to keep silent until she returned to the present. The part that made Ron's spine twist was that right before her face had gone vacant, she'd picked up the water glass Harry had been holding.

"Angel?" Ron asked nervously.

"What the bloody hell?" Mariah said softly. "How come I didn't see this? And who is she?"

"Mariah?" Ron said again. No answer. _Angel?_ He asked mentally, putting as much energy into it as he dared when she was so inwardly focused.

Mariah returned to him and met his eyes. The anxiety in hers made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. She walked towards the fireplace, and threw in a handful of Floo powder and dropped to her knees.

"Mum!" she called.

A moment later, Molly Weasley's face appeared in the fireplace. "You're back, then." Molly smiled widely.

"I got back just a few moments ago. Are you busy?" Mariah asked. Ron was amazed at how even her voice sounded, how utterly _normal_. A part of him hated that she could do that. A very envious part.

"Not in the slightest, dear. Morgan's out with Arthur at the moment. I was just about to go out and make sure they weren't getting up to mischief."

"Would you mind watching Rianne for a few hours? I didn't realize you already had Morgan there, but..."

Molly gave her an even bigger smile, looking first at her son then back at her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. "Like that matters," she said, giving Mariah a wink. "I'm always happy to have my grandchildren over to spoil." She took Rianne from Mariah's arms. Despite the fact that her mother had just returned home, Rianne was already laughing and focused on her grandmother. "We'll have a lovely afternoon, love. Just us girls. We'll keep those boys in line, won't we?"

Rianne was just babbling out an answer as the pair of them disappeared into the fire. Mariah was already moving quickly towards the door to their flat.

"You planning on telling me what the bloody hell is going on?" Ron called after her.

"Only if you get your pale English arse moving, Weasley. I'm not sure how much time we have. It might already be happening, but in case it isn't..."

Ron stared mutely back at her as she told him what she'd seen. Once she'd finished, he decided that dawdling in this situation was not a good plan. He wanted to run, but settled for walking really, really fast.

*^*^*^*^*^*

Hermione's scream was loud and piercing, but as the stone walls were so effective at sound dampening, the only one that heard her was the ghostly Sir Brian, the last remaining of three knights that had once taken residence outside her classroom.

"Milady?" he said tentatively.

"Sir Brian," Hermione said, kneeling down and taking the hand of the body on the floor, "I need you to go to the hospital wing. I need you to tell Poppy to come here immediately. And then...can you leave the castle?"

"Not past the grounds, milady," he admitted quietly.

"Never mind then, just go for Poppy, please."

"As you wish," he snapped his ghostly heels together and left the room via the floor.

"Come on," Hermione said, addressing the body. "Wake up. You have to tell me what happened. You have to tell me where my baby is." Hermione's voice broke on the last word, her eyes scanning the room in the unrealistic hope that in her initial panic, she'd just not seen Jamie. But there was nothing. Nothing. The cradle was empty. Her baby was gone.

A year ago, Mariah had faced the same situation. Hermione now wondered how her friend hadn't gone stark, staring mad. As it was, she was fighting the hysterical urge to start ripping the castle apart brick by brick in order to find her daughter.

"Jamie..." she sobbed, still clutching the woman's hand. Her eyes fixed on the lifeless face on the floor. "What happened to you?"

Poppy stepped through her office fire as Hermione said this and moved swiftly towards the fallen witch. She made a brief examination and turned very worried eyes towards Hermione.

"It's the same spell," the nurse said, briskly.

"The same as Katia, you mean?" Hermione asked, horrified.

"Yes. Whoever attacked her also attacked Sara. I need to get her down to the hospital wing, Hermione." She paused. "It must have happened when she came here to tell you about Katia."

"And whoever did this also has my baby," Hermione sobbed. "But who? Why? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?" she screamed, aiming her voice towards the ceiling.

"Hermione!" Poppy said sharply, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly. She met the nurse's calm eyes with her own probably frantic looking ones. But the healer's eyes calmed her as well.

Trying desperately to yank a choke chain on her panic, Hermione raised her eyes and took some solace in the calm, determined expression she saw reflected in Poppy's violet eyes. Willing herself to breathe slowly, she listened as the nurse spoke in soft, measured tones.

"I know this is heartbreaking for you, Hermione, but you have to think. Who was watching Jamie when you came down to the hospital wing?"

Hermione started to tell her. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth.

 __

 _No. It couldn't be._

 _Annika?_

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Harry wasn't sure if his voice was as frozen as his body, but at the moment, it didn't matter. He was speechless. He doubted he'd have been able to move regardless.

After months of wondering, days of worrying, hours of sleeplessness, and moments of sheer panic, he was finally face to face with the answer to his mystery. And it was one of his students. His _student_. Never in all of his musings and list makings did he give even one thought to anyone in the student body. It was ludicrous. They were only kids.

Apparently, one of those kids had some fairly adult ideas.

Harry cleared his throat. There was sound, and vibration, so he assumed his voice worked. "Annika?" he croaked. Fear for his daughter's precarious position in this unstable girl's arms had dried his throat. "What's going on?"

"Whatever do you mean, Beloved? We're together, finally. We're away from that wretched spellcaster and joined as we should be. As a family."

Anger rose in him sharper than Gryffindor's sword. "What have you done to Hermione?"

An answering anger flashed in Annika's eyes and Harry winced inwardly. He had to keep his temper in check as long as he was immobile and she held Jamie. He had to play this carefully if he wanted to get out of it with his family in one piece.

Annika's anger was fleeting, however. Almost before it began, the fire in her eyes cooled and she offered him a wan smile. "Honestly, Harry, I appreciate the lingering effects of whatever spell she's kept you under, but she's really not any concern of ours anymore."

Where there had been anger a moment before, now there was only cold fear. Could she have harmed Hermione? It was unthinkable, but possible. How else could she be standing here now with Jamie in her arms? He knew his wife, knew her capabilities and her strength. The only way anyone could have taken Jamie away from her would be by catastrophic force. Unless...

"You're right, of course. I'm just a bit curious," Harry said, trying for casual and disinterested.

It must have worked, because her face softened even more. "It seems one of her pet students met with a bit of a mishap and she felt the need to go running off to the hospital wing to check on her. I was the one who told her of Katia's misfortune and she asked me to watch the baby. In the right place at the right time, you might say." Her softened face slid into a sneer. "Imagine, asking _me_ to watch _our_ baby. And the most insulting part was that she actually looked me over as if I wasn't quite worthy."

Tension hunched Annika's shoulders and she stood abruptly. She began to pace. "Not quite worthy," she growled. "I wanted to kill her then and there, but I restrained myself. I know her history. I didn't feel quite prepared enough to take on what _some_ consider the most powerful witch of the age. Besides, she's unimportant. All that matters is us, Beloved."

Annika continued to pace and ramble. Harry wasn't even sure she was aware of him any longer. "No, I couldn't take her on face to face. She'd probably have tried to harm our daughter in her pathetic struggle to hold on to what she knew was rightfully mine. Handling the Transfiguration teacher was nothing, though. After all, who would expect mousy little Annika to strike first? But no matter. I handled her quite effectively." She finally stopped her pacing when she reached him, then settled herself cross-legged in front of him. "And now, my beloved, we're finally free. Free of all of them. Free to be together."

Harry's mind was whirling. She'd attacked Katia. And either Sara or Minerva. She had tricked Hermione into leaving Jamie with her. That, if anything, eased Harry's mind and enabled him to start trying to figure a way out of this. Hermione was safe; she was unharmed. And when she discovered what had happened, she'd be charging to his rescue. Harry allowed himself an inner smile, picturing his wife in shining armor.

In the meantime, he planned to get as many questions answered as he could. Jamie was gurgling up at him from Annika's arms, seemingly content. For that reason, and the fact that Hermione was unharmed, he decided to play at acquiescence. If he wasn't belligerent, if he made Annika think that he shared her affections, he might be able to get out of this without harm coming to any of them. And he might just get some answers along the way.

He'd never been much of an actor, even in school pageants in the days before Hogwarts. But his daughter was relying on him to put in an award winning performance. He did not intend on letting her down.

*^*^*^*^

Hermione was running out of Ron's flat just as Ron and Mariah were running back into it. She Floo'd there after her realization because that was the last place she'd known Harry had been. It seemed as good a place as any to begin searching.

"I wish you'd make up your bloody mind, woman."

She heard Ron before she saw him, his voice broken as he panted while climbing the stairs towards where she stood.

"First we have to run to Hogwarts, then we have to run back here."

"Mariah?" Hermione called, alerting her friends to her presence in their flat.

"Hermione!" Ron and Mariah said simultaneously. The door swung open a second later and she found herself wrapped in their arms. The adrenaline rush she'd felt back at Hogwarts left her suddenly, and her legs collapsed underneath her. Ron steadied her and near carried her to the sofa, kneeling at her feet while Mariah settled next to her and held her while she cried.

"She's got my baby," Hermione sobbed. "She took my baby. Oh Mariah, how did you keep from going mad when Renae took Rianne?"

"I kept my head, Hermione, which is what you need to do now. You've got to snap out of this and snap out of it now. Crying isn't doing anyone, least of all Jamie and Harry, any good."

Ron whipped his head toward Mariah, outraged at her offensive words. _That's a bit harsh, isn't it?_

 _She needs harsh right now, Ron. She needs to get good and angry. I don't care if she's angry with me, just so long as she's not like this any more. She needs to put her back against something if she's going to fight._

Ron nodded. It seemed his fiancée knew Hermione just as well as he did, even if he'd forgotten in the face of her grief. Hermione was a force to be reckoned with when she was fighting for something. And anger was the best way to unleash that force.

Hermione hadn't cottoned on yet. She was staring at Mariah, her face soaked with tears and disbelief in her eyes. "Mariah?"

"Are you prepared to fight for your daughter?" Mariah asked her, not backing down from the pain she saw in her best friend's face.

"How dare you ask me such a thing?" Hermione sputtered.

Ron was amazed that the tears on her face weren't steaming off from the heated flush of anger that had started to suffuse her cheeks.

"I do dare. Are you going to sit here and cry woe-is-me or are you prepared to go after her?"

The room was as quiet as a tomb as strong-willed woman faced strong-willed woman. Ron could almost feel the crackle of tension between them. Then Hermione smiled. A fierce, determined get-the-hell-out-of-my-way smile.

"I'm going after her." Hermione wiped at the few remaining tears on her cheeks and stood up. She reached into her robes, removed her wand and stalked towards the door. As Ron and Mariah rose to follow her, Hermione turned back to them.

"Thank you," she said to Mariah. "I think that was more effective than a slap in the face."

"You're welcome," Mariah replied as she reached Hermione and clasped the hand that wasn't holding the wand. "Now, shall we go and mobilize the troops?"

"Do what?" Ron asked.

"Mobilize the..." Mariah broke off and shook her head. "One of these days, I'm going to get a television, a movie player, and we're going to spend a weekend getting you up to speed on American and Muggle slang, Ron."

Hermione chuckled and Ron merely continued to look puzzled.

"I mean, we need to get help if we're going to find them," Mariah clarified. "We need Draco for this."

*^*^*^*^

The last time Harry had experienced such a chilling silence, he'd been on a broomstick. Moments later, he'd fallen fifty feet to the ground. But there were no Dementors here now. It was just him and her, with his daughter between them.

Annika glanced up at him, her eyes filled with an insane delight and he could almost feel the weight of her madness pressing in on him. How on earth had this ever happened? He tried for a small smile as his mind searched back into the past. He tried to come up with a time, an instance, where he'd done something inappropriate. Something to send her into this state. He couldn't come up with one. In truth, he'd never given her much thought except during their lessons. If he'd been preferential with _any_ student, it had been Katia - because she reminded him so much of Hermione. And he'd always, _always_ , bent over backwards to ensure that he was the only one who knew of his inner favoritism.

As he hadn't heard grumblings, or even whispered asides, about her being labeled a teacher's pet, he figured he'd done a fair job of it.

"You're worried about something," Annika said abruptly, her own brow furrowing.

"What?"

"I can always tell when you're upset. Ever since you started teaching. It was my fourth year, and I remember it so clearly." She laughed, a high, girlish laugh. For a moment, she sounded almost normal. "How could I not? I knew then, from the moment our eyes met, that there was something special between us. Of course, I didn't realize then that we were soul mates. I thought it was just a crush. But as time moved on, it became clearer."

As she spoke, Harry was mentally scrambling, trying to remember his first class with the fourth years. He remembered being nervous, newly sober, and desperate to make a good show of it. For Dumbledore. For Ron. For Hermione's memory. Closing his eyes, he pictured the classroom, then the faces. Then he saw her, even though she was obscured from his direct line of vision by the burly boy in front of her. But it was a different Annika than the one before him now. She had glasses, dirty blonde hair scraped off her face in a tight plait that fell nearly to her waist, and her acne covered face had been almost as bad as Eloise Midgeon's. Harry had to keep from gaping as recognition flooded him. She reminded him of what Myrtle must have looked like in her days as a student.

"You've changed since then," Harry commented, taking in the non-bespectacled eyes and casual crop of hair that fell in feathers around her clear complexion.

Annika smiled then, her face almost rapt and somehow gentle, yet her eyes were still showing the wildness of her delusion. "I knew you'd noticed. I spent the summer getting ready for this year. I pleaded with my parents for the _Occulus_ procedure to rid myself of those hideously thick glasses, had my older sister help me with hair styles, and my skin finally cleared." She preened as she outlined her physical changes, but when she'd finished, her smile turned into a rather ugly frown. "You didn't say anything, though. Why?"

 _Think fast, Potter._ "Oh," he cleared his throat, praying for inspiration, "well, I couldn't, you know. I'm a teacher. It's not looked on favorably for teachers to notice such things about their students. At least, not publicly." He tacked a lame smile onto his face, praying now that she bought it.

"I thought it was something like that." She smiled back, appeased.

Harry grinned back, genuinely. Perhaps his skills as an actor weren't that lacking after all. He glanced down and saw that Jamie had fallen asleep in Annika's arms. He hoped she'd stay that way. With luck on his side, this would be over by the time she woke.

Luck. He thought of finding Hermione, of the day Jamie was born. And a tingle of unease filtered through him. Dare he wish for more luck than that?

He saw Annika move slightly. Towards him. But she didn't have evil intent on her face; if anything, she looked quite amorous. One thing he knew for certain, his acting skills didn't stretch _that_ far. He cast around for something, anything, to keep her from closing the distance.

His eyes traveled from Jamie to Annika's face. To her eyes. And he knew. With a blast of clarity that would have knocked him off his feet if he'd been standing. He'd seen that look before, in light brown eyes. Eyes surrounded by wavy brown hair and the face of the one he truly loved.

"It was you," he said softly before he could stop himself. "In my office."

"Yes, it was," she replied. Her face twisted into a sneer, the same ugly sneer he'd seen that afternoon on Hermione's face. It never ceased to amaze him how anger could warp a normally attractive face into something grotesque. "That was a miscalculation on my part."

"Miscalculation?" Harry asked, hoping that perhaps the sane part of her mind was trying to break through the twisted bent of her obsession with him. If there was a small break, then perhaps he could make it a bit bigger.

"Yes. There were times when I was sure you were ready to see, ready to be unchained. Released from her spell. We had talked earlier that day, and you seemed so distracted. I thought you were fighting it, fighting her control. You had always been so strong before, so resistant to other forms of mind control that I hoped your true feelings for me were finally breaking her spell. But then...your reaction. . It troubled me deeply and I must admit that it was so frustrating to find you still deep under her influence. And I'm sorry I took my frustrations out...physically. I usually have more control than that. I tried to run my turmoil out, but that didn't work. By the time I'd reached the school gates, I was still very angry. And...and...I'm sorry."

Harry was bewildered for a moment before the memory swam before his eyes. The broken pane of glass in their kitchen, the vandalization of his office. He hadn't connected the two events. _Draco's accident_. Watching as Mariah brought Draco back from the edge of death had eclipsed everything else.

"But you've lost your temper before," Harry prodded. He needed to get further into her reasonings if he had any hope of finishing this. And there were more questions that needed answering.

"We all do, Beloved," she agreed. "I'm not proud of that, but it's perfectly understandable. I've been under a great deal of stress." Her voice hitched as the color in her face rose. "I've spent years... _years,_ Harry. Watching as she wove her spell around you, making you oblivious to everyone and everything but her. And as I was due to leave Hogwarts at the end of term, time was running short. I've been waiting for you, waiting for you wake up...to fight. But you haven't, Harry. If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't even _want_ to fight."

She was shouting now. She'd stood and resumed her pacing around the room. Jamie was stirring in her arms and Harry was kicking himself for pushing her. He was also beginning to feel a bit of sensation in his fingers and toes. Just to be sure it wasn't his imagination, he wiggled his toes inside his shoes. They moved. Whatever spell he'd been hit with, it was starting to lose its strength. Discretion might be the better part of valor, but it was also his way out of this. If she didn't know he could move, he'd have a split second of surprise in which to act.

As he'd learned countless times in the past, a second's hesitation could mean the difference between winning and losing, between success and failure. Between life and death.

"You did, didn't you?" she asked, stopping her pacing just long enough to stare at him. "You were trying to fight her, weren't you?"

 _Moment of truth, Potter,_ his subconscious spoke up in Draco's voice, _prove to me that the Sorting Hat had a_ reason _for wanting you in Slytherin. That there's a part of you that can lie with the best of us._

"Of course I was fighting, Annika," Harry replied, trying to do everything Ron _didn't_ do when he lied. He met her eyes, kept his voice calm and even, adding just a bit of hurt into it for good measure. "But it was unlike any spell I'd ever experienced."

He was rewarded with a smile. She calmed almost at once, ceasing her pacing. Harry exhaled the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. He nearly raised his hand to rub the bridge between his eyes, but remembered just in time that he wasn't supposed to be able to.

"Well, that doesn't matter now. It's over." Annika crossed the short distance that separated them and resumed her spot in front of him. "You're completely free. Of those that would harm you, of those that would try to control you. We can be together, just the three of us. It's been too long in coming, but the waiting will pass into sweet memory for us. The past is gone, the ugliness is behind us. All that's left is a glorious future."

Something in what she said set off alarm bells in his head. Something about "those that would harm him". Now that was just preposterous. Hermione would no doubt be rolling her eyes and telling him he needed to stop reading mysteries again. But he had to know.

"Harm me?" Harry asked. It was hard to keep the adrenaline now coursing through him from showing in his voice, but he gave it a go. "Do you mean the Dursleys?"

"Those horrid people," she fairly spat. "The world is well rid of them."

"Did you...?" Harry asked again, unable to finish the question.

"I certainly did," she said, looking for once this crazy afternoon like the student she was. Eager for praise from a Professor on a project well executed.

For the first time since he'd opened his eyes, Harry felt real fear.

Hermione had been wrong. She wasn't just harboring an innocent crush that she'd taken too far. She wasn't simply obsessed with him to the exclusion of everyone else.

She'd set the fire that killed the Dursleys. And if she'd already killed once, could he be guaranteed that she wouldn't do it again if things didn't go her way?

 _Whatever you're planning, Hermione,_ Harry thought, _you'd better make it fast._

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Draco was holding his front door open with one hand and his robe closed with the other. He stared at the three people on his landing with something like shock. It didn't help matters that they'd all started speaking the moment he'd opened the door. "Hang on a bloody minute," Draco said, shaking his head. "One at a time. Harry and Jamie are missing?"

"Yes. And I think..." Hermione began.

"Oi," Ron interrupted, drowning out Hermione's voice. All four of them looked at him. "Can we perhaps move this _inside_ the house? More importantly, can we request that Malfoy put on some pants?"

Draco shot an eyebrow into his hairline. "Tempted, Weasley?"

"You wish," Ron muttered. "Now go. I have nightmares enough thinking about you with my sister. I don't need to see evidence of it waving at me."

Draco looked mortified, then snuck a quick look down. His robe was still covering all the important bits. When he returned his gaze to his brother-in-law's, he found him smirking slightly.

"Made you look," he grinned.

Draco rolled his eyes, but Ron knew he saw a trace of a smile on the other man's face as he turned to head up the stairs.

"You two, honestly," Hermione sighed. "Harry and Draco are bad enough, do you have to participate as well?"

"I don't know what you're on about, Hermione. I was having horrid visions of that robe opening. I don't think I could have handled the sight of Draco's pride and joy and still been able to concentrate later. I'd have to bleach my brain like Harry wanted to after seeing Snape's backside."

"That's pride and joys, Weasley, plural," Draco called from midway up the stairs. "Unless there's something you haven't shared with the class, you should have two as well."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron answered.

Muttering about men who refused to grow up and used pathetic attempts at humor to get through stress, Hermione and Mariah entered the house and walked towards the kitchen. Ron followed, sending thanks to whoever was in charge that he _hadn't_ seen anything under that robe.

There was an air of barely contained patience in the kitchen as they waited for the Malfoys to compose themselves upstairs. Ron paced while Mariah and Hermione sat at the scrubbed wood table and drummed their fingers. Before too long, the five of them were gathered together. Hermione and Mariah took it in turns to tell them what had transpired that afternoon. They were all hoping that if they each told their part of the puzzle, they could get a clear picture.

And finally solve the bloody thing.

Hermione told them of Katia's accident, and the attack on Sara. Her voice nearly broke when she told them about finding Jamie's crib empty, but it held firm. It stayed firm as she told them who'd been with Jamie at the time.

"And you know for certain that this Annika is behind it all?" Draco asked, facing Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione and Mariah said in unison. Mariah continued, "When I got home from Kalena's, I was clearing dishes and I picked up Harry's water glass. I saw him with her. She was holding Jamie, and I heard Harry say her name."

"Did you see where they were?" Hermione asked. Mariah had merely confirmed to Hermione as they'd rushed to Draco and Ginny's that she'd seen Annika with Harry. Before she'd had a chance to question Mariah, they'd been knocking on the Malfoy's door.

"I wish I had, Hermione. I'm still running over what I saw in my mind, but it wasn't a clear vision. All I could see behind her was a wall."

"Perhaps I'm missing something here, but who's Annika?" Draco asked. Ginny shared the same puzzled look and shrugged her shoulders.

"One of Harry's students. A seventh year Gryffindor."

"A student?" Ginny said, looking puzzled. Then her face cleared. "This is the one you were talking about a few months ago, isn't it? The one that wants to become an Auror?"

"Yes. And apparently, she has a real chance. She's the first student in years that has."

"Or did before she went mental," Ron supplied.

"True enough," Draco responded. "From the Aurors I know at the Ministry, they like them sane at the onset. There's time enough for them to go barmy as they get used to the job." Everyone in the room, save Mariah, was remembering Mad Eye Moody.

"So we're talking about a very accomplished witch. We can't take anything for granted with her. And we can't face her with the mindset that she's just a student. I'd say, from what I've heard Harry and the others say about her, she's on par with my skill level at seventh year...perhaps better."

"Merlin's beard," Ron groaned. "You were hard enough to handle...but you gone all mental just about scares the red from my hair."

"Too right," Draco agreed. "But I'm still trying to get past Harry's stalker being one of his students. Once this is over, I'm going to have to make sure to give him hell about it as often as possible."

"For now, can we concentrate on _how_ we're going to get past it? And where they could be?" Hermione asked, her patience growing thin. Her husband and her baby were Merlin knew where and no one seemed to feel the need to be doing anything about it.

"They're probably at your house, Hermione," Draco said laconically. "I thought you knew that."

Four sets of eyes bore down on Draco and he realized that Harry had meant what he said; he hadn't told a soul what they'd done. "After Harry's office was ransacked and you found the evidence of someone having used your fireplace to reach his office, Harry asked me to help him set up a few wards so it wouldn't happen again."

"Why would Harry need your help?" Hermione asked.

Draco shot a nervous glance at her, then at Ron and Mariah. He didn't answer until he felt Ginny's hand on his thigh, giving him the support he needed. It wasn't as though they thought he pushed paper around all day, but he'd never come straight out and told them what _exactly_ he did for the Ministry. This was about as close as he'd ever come. Or ever would, if he could help it.

Oddly enough, he felt support coming from an entirely unexpected place. Mariah was looking at him with something like encouragement, as if she knew what he was about to say. Taking her powers into consideration, Draco thought, she just might know, at that.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said, noting the discomfiture on Draco's face. "I don't need to know the whys of it. But how can you be so certain that they're at the house?"

"Harry and I set up several wards, specific wards...er," Draco cleared his throat. "These wards are...er," Draco paused again.

"Look," Ron broke in, "I think I speak for everyone here on this. Stop stammering about how they were done and fill us in on what they _do._ "

"Right then," Draco said, visibly relaxing. "Because of these wards, the only way Annika would have been able to use the fire, was holding Jamie. The fireplaces in your offices only connect outside Hogwarts if someone related to you, either of you, by blood uses it."

Hermione held up a hand. "And what stopped her from using the house fireplace to Floo from there..."

"Further," Draco said, a bit more loudly, "the fireplace in your house connects only to Harry's office unless used by you or Harry."

Hermione still wasn't convinced. "And which ward, precisely, kept her from simply walking out of the front door?"

"Samantha would have seen her, and followed her," Mariah soothed. "Your house has been under surveillance for a while now."

This time, all eyes turned towards Mariah in shock. Hermione was the first to break the silence. "Pardon? Who the ruddy hell is Samantha?"

"Faren," she replied calmly. "To cut down on confusion, I'll use her alias. Faren never really left her post as Jamie's guardian, Hermione. She just hasn't been doing it from _inside_ the house. That's what I've been doing with Kalena. It took the two of us to break that diary and learn its secrets, but we were able to do so. Unless something happened to Faren, Annika hasn't left your house."

"You knew this?" Hermione looked first at Ron, then at Draco.

"It's news to me," Ron said, his attention divided between the verbal conversation and the mental one he was trying to have with Mariah simultaneously. "There wasn't time for her to tell me what she'd found out before we went tearing out of the house to find you."

"As curious as I am about Faren," Ginny spoke up, "I think we need to focus on getting Harry and Jamie away from this lunatic before we do anything else."

Everyone nodded in agreement, but no one said anything.

"And how, exactly, are we going to do this?" Hermione finally voiced what they were all thinking.

Brilliant plans were thin on the ground, however. Silence reigned as blank stare met blank stare.

*^*^*^*^*^

It was unreal. Almost surreal. How many times in his neglected youth had he lain awake at night and wished the Dursleys away? He couldn't count. Many things traipsed through his orphan's mind while he lay at Mrs. Figg's, as well. Of another horrible car crash intervening in his life, this time setting a wrong to right, and setting him free of their cold indifference.

And then, one spring day, those long ago thoughts had come to pass. The Dursleys had died and he was free of them forever. Granted, when it happened he'd been an adult and already shut of them. Nevertheless, he'd had a more difficult time coping with their deaths than he'd expected.

An almost unreasonable sense of vengeance began to pulse within him. He wanted to rage at her, to tell her that no matter how vile they were as guardians, she'd no right to take their lives.

Then Jamie began to gurgle, waking slightly from her short nap, and he fought to calm the anger within him. Losing control, criticizing her in any way, could have consequences infinitely more dear than the loss of his surrogate family. In the end, as he'd come to understand this year, family was family. The one he'd grown up with might have been nothing compared to the one he had now, but it had still been his.

"I'm sorry, Annika. That...what you just told me...I'm a bit taken aback. Why the Dursleys? They haven't been a part of my life for a very long time."

"See?" She grinned madly. "This is why I love you. You're so selfless. So willing to let the past bleed into memory and forgive."

"But I'm really not, Annika," Harry said. He had a thought that if he could gently crack some of her illusions about him, he could stop this before it went any further.

Annika merely nodded at his statement, and smiled indulgently at him. "You're thinking of that time when you lived in the Astronomy Tower last year."

"I am," Harry replied, knowing that his brief separation from Hermione bordered on venturing into treacherous waters. He wasn't sure what he expected from her in reaction, but it wasn't the soft, loving smile and a small laugh.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "how like you to bring up my fondest memory. That was when I knew. That was when it became so achingly clear to me that we were destined. That was when I realized you were under a spell of some kind and my mission to free you from it became apparent."

Nonplussed, Harry kept his face as blank as possible. More to the point, he tried to keep his thoughts from transferring to his face. Because all he could think, at that moment, was _barking bloody mad._

"Really?" he said, and it at least sounded like he was interested instead of attempting to keep his skin from crawling off.

"Oh yes. I saw her, you see. The witch they call your wife. I saw her with the Slytherin, saw her kiss him. It was like a revelation, Harry. How could someone so faithless be meant for you? No matter what I heard about the great Gryffindor love story, I just couldn't believe it. Not after seeing that. I knew then that no one understood what you _really_ needed. Someone who will put you first and foremost. All year long, I'd been trying to reconcile your choice within me. But...but when I saw her, saw what she did. And then I saw you. I hid in the shadows of the corridor as you passed by. Oh, Harry, it just broke my heart. You looked so lost. I think, and correct me if I'm wrong, but that was the closest you ever came before now of breaking free of her spell. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes," he choked out. "You're right." What else could he say? Somehow he didn't think she'd take kindly to him telling her she was full of bollocks. The more she spoke, the more insight he was given into the state of her mind, the more frightened he became that he wouldn't be able to keep up this charade any longer. Every paternal instinct within him was telling him to grab his daughter and run.

"I had such hopes then, Harry. I really did. But she somehow managed to get you under her control again. And I realized that drastic measures were needed. It took me most of the summer to put everything together. I researched, read past issues of the _Prophet_ , every written work about your life and your defeat of V-Voldemort."

Harry, wisely in his opinion, did not correct her. Proud as he was of his wife's achievement, the last thing Annika needed to hear right now was that Voldemort's defeat was entirely Hermione's doing.

"With everything I read, it became clearer and clearer that we were meant to be together. Destined. That you were my beloved. The hardest parts to read were the stories of your earlier years, your time with those hideous Muggles. How dare they?"

She was pacing again. But more importantly, Jamie was starting to fuss. And she was starting to reach for him. It took a Herculean effort to keep his arms limp at his sides and not reach back. By the wild look in her eyes, Harry could tell Annika was getting worked up again and he had to think of some way to calm her. She seemed less agitated when talking about the things she did to help him break the spell, so he steered her back in that direction.

"I just realized something," Harry said evenly, cutting off the vicious diatribe she'd been spewing while he was thinking. He waited for her to stop pacing and turn to look at him.

"What?" she bit out, now shifting an increasingly agitated Jamie on to her shoulder.

"Come sit with me and I'll tell you."

That cooled her off. She stopped, mid rant, and turned towards him. Her face lost the ugliness of rage and slid into the serenity of her madness. She moved towards him and dropped to a cross-legged sitting position directly in front of him. Jamie shifted in Annika's arms to sit in the hollow of her legs. She grinned up at Harry and he grinned back. Content to have him close, she settled down to gnawing on her knuckles. When she did that, Harry knew, she was getting hungry.

He didn't have long.

*^*^*^*^

"You want me to what?" Ron asked.

"Before we do anything Gryffindor, and by that I mean brave and stupid, I'd rather ascertain that they really are in the house."

None of the Gryffindors at the table rose to the bait. There would be time enough for that later. For now, they had the beginnings of a plan forming.

"So you want me to take Harry's Invisibility Cloak, summoned from his closet, and fly around the house peering in windows?"

"Yes, that's precisely what I want you to do. I could go on about finding your inner Slytherin and using stealth and sneakiness to size up your opponent, but that would just get me told to sod off, so we'll skip that bit."

"Sod off anyway," Ron muttered. "I mean, come on, Malfoy. You're cracked. Won't she be expecting something like this?"

"I don't think so," Ginny said. "If we're operating under the assumption that she believes Harry returns her affections, and I think her letters to him bear this out, she won't be looking for anyone to come after him. She'll be so overjoyed to have him to herself, think that they're finally together and everything is finally right with the world."

"I hope you're right," Hermione said quietly from the end of the table. She'd been silent as they'd batted ideas and plans around. "I hope they're all right," she said, more to herself than to the room at large.

"They're fine," Mariah answered her anyway. "You have to believe that, Hermione."

"I'm trying." She looked up and met four pairs of eyes. "Right then. Let's get Ron airborne and see exactly what is going on in my house."

They decided to Apparate straight to the house's kitchen entrance, just on the off chance that Annika _was_ watching the high street. The house looked still and silent, just as it had done that morning when they'd left for Hogwarts. They kept their voices at a low whisper as windows were open all over the upstairs. Mariah looked around as Hermione set about summoning Harry's Invisibility Cloak. It fluttered down through their open bedroom window.

"Samantha isn't here," she said as Ron mounted the broom and Draco and Ginny tossed the cloak over him.

"Is that good or bad?" Ron's voice asked from under the cloak.

"I don't think it's a sign we should call off this party and head over to the Three Broomsticks for butterbeer," she said gravely.

"I thought not," Ron muttered. "I'll be back in a few."

"Check every window, Ron. And don't just glance in them, really look around."

"I'm not exactly a newcomer to sneaking about and spying, Hermione," Ron hissed.

"Fight about it later," Ginny interjected. "Off with you, Ron."

*^*^*^*

"What did you realize, Beloved?"

"My scar," he began. "Several times this year, I've felt it tingle." He paused briefly as his brain tried desperately not to reveal what it had just seen out the window. "That was your doing, wasn't it?"

He threw the question out there to get her talking. He needed time to process what he'd just seen. A head of bright red hair floating right outside. _Ron_ , he thought. Due to his height, Ron had never quite gotten the hang of keeping his entire body invisible. One part or another usually showed through. More often than not it was his feet, and on one memorable occasion it had been his arse hanging out. This time, the top of his head wasn't covered properly. Probably because he'd been riding a broomstick.

And if Ron's head was floating outside of his window that meant the cavalry had arrived. Hopefully with some sort of plan to get Jamie and him away from this mental case before she went completely around the bend.

"So it was a simple thing," Annika rambled, "to get the towel charmed and hand it to you after Quidditch. That touched your scar and we were connected." She stopped, beaming at him. She seemed to realize at once that she didn't have his full attention. "Harry?" Annika said sharply, recalling his focus back to her. She looked petulant, brows knitted together and toe tapping. "You didn't listen to a word I just said, did you?"

"Of course I did," he placated. At least he _hoped_ he'd caught enough of what she'd been rambling about to bluff his way through. "You were just about to show me where you'd made the connection spell. I must say, Annika, that I'm quite impressed. That's very advanced magic for a seventh year. I think you'll be quite a credit to the Auror's Institute."

"The...?" her brows drew together again.

"After leaving," Harry said, the small hairs on the back of his head standing on end. Whether from the fire spitting from her eyes or the creak on the staircase, he wasn't sure. "I realize the letters haven't arrived yet, but I'm positive you'll be accepted."

In the time it took him to blink, her face went from confused to livid. Blood suffused her cheeks, her breathing became harsh and ragged. "How dare...I thought...I thought you understood. We need to be together, Harry. Always. There's no way I'll leave you for that long. And you'll have to stop teaching as well. We're going away. Away from everyone...where we can be together in peace."

Harry was frantically trying to think of something to say to that declaration when he felt it. The swish of a cloak that wasn't there across his ankles. Then he smelled Hermione's shampoo. Hermione was in the room with them, under his Invisibility Cloak. Instinctively, he knew she was there for Jamie. And he knew exactly what to do.

"Annika, love," Harry soothed, trying not to choke on the endearment. "Please, come here."

She walked over to him, eyes still wild, a petulant frown on her face. Before she reached him, Harry pictured Hermione on their wedding day and offered up what he hoped was the same beaming smile.

"Put our baby in her crib and come sit with me," he said, keeping his voice low and intimate. This was the most difficult thing he'd ever done. First, trying to pretend it was normal for one half of a couple to be frozen to the floor. Second, sweet-talking one woman while his wife was mere feet away.

Perhaps it was his calling her "love", or his referring to Jamie as their baby, but she acquiesced. Placing a small kiss to the baby's forehead, she lay her down in the crib and crossed to Harry, sitting in front of him and taking his hands in hers.

He spoke before she could. "Of course I understand that, Annika. I just wasn't sure you were ready to give up your dream of becoming an Auror...just for me." Harry saw a flicker of movement over Annika's shoulder. His eyes darted once to the crib and noticed it was empty.

Hermione had Jamie. His daughter was safely away from this lunatic. The rush of relief within him was staggering, but he kept his voice even. Even better, he was fairly certain he was completely free of the spell she'd cast on him to keep him immobile. He wasn't about to share that information just yet, however. If he knew anything at all, he knew that Hermione would be back in this room the moment she'd ensured that Jamie was out of harm's way.

"Harry," Annika sighed, scooting closer to him. "Nothing is more important than our being together."

"Except for one minor little stumbling block," Hermione said from the doorway. She was visible and the sparks shooting from her eyes would have sent a giant scurrying off in fear. "That's _my_ husband you're planning this grand getaway with, and I'm not quite finished with him yet."

"Yes, you are," Annika said smugly, gripping Harry's hands tightly. "Tell her, Harry. I want to see her face when she realizes her days of controlling you are over."

With his daughter safely away, Harry felt the burden of his pretense lift from his shoulders. He took his hands from hers and eased himself to his feet. Pins and needles shot down his legs as the blood returned to them, but he steeled himself against it. The pain would pass.

She was watching him closely as he stood. From the look on her face, she seemed to be waiting for him to carry on removing Hermione from the room, from their lives. At least, that's how he interpreted the cat-after-canary look on her face. His eyes darted to his wife and he had to smother a smile. The barely contained anger was likely only noticeable to him. Ron, too, probably. They'd both been on the receiving end of that look often enough to know it well.

And now, to end this. Once and for all.

"I wish I could, Annika, but I can't." He was at Hermione's side, his arm draping casually over her shoulder as they faced his student. "I'm afraid Hermione's had control over my heart since we were not much younger than you. Not from any spell, or mind control. Simply by being who she is. I love Hermione; I always will."

Annika stared at them, eyes wide in shock. She stood, shaking her head from side to side as if trying to clear it. Before either of them could react, she'd drawn her wand and leveled it at them. Hermione's wand rose to meet Annika's, but the girl had finished the spell before Hermione could do anything.

 __

 _"Riddikulus!"_

It took a moment for what she said to register. Hermione lowered her wand as they both stared at her openmouthed as one more piece fell into the puzzle. Their eyes met, both of them clearly remembering the day they'd encountered Annika in the corridors and the boggart Harry had captured. And the way she'd looked at them after encountering it.

At some point during her descent, her boggart had changed from a basilisk to a Harry and Hermione deeply in love.

Arm shaking, eyes still wide, Annika repeated the spell.

Surprisingly, it was Hermione that approached the girl, holding her hand and lowering the wand. "There is no boggart, Annika," she said, softly.

"It...it has to be. There's no other explanation. Harry loves me, and I love him and we're going to be together."

"I'm not doubting that you love Harry, Annika. But it's time you realize that those affections are not returned."

Annika's face twisted into rage in the blink of an eye. She pulled her hand from Hermione's grip and pushed hard on her shoulders. Hermione, caught unawares, was knocked to the ground.

"They might not be, but they will. They will. Once you're dead." Annika's wand raised to point directly at Hermione's heart.

Now familiar with her rapid-fire mood swings, Harry had his wand in hand the moment Hermione approached Annika. With this thing so bloody close to done and over, he was taking no chances.

Neither, apparently, was Annika. When his wand raised to disarm her, she swung out with her free hand, knocking the wand from his grip. He hadn't been prepared for a non-magical move from her and watched, stunned, as his wand flew across the room.

 _"Accio_ wand!" Her voice was calm, eerily so, as she faced the pair of them, a wand in each hand.

Harry felt a moment's panic. His arms dropped to his sides, real fear coursing through him. She was capable of anything now. Her eyes had lost any sense of rationality as they moved between Hermione and him. Wracking his brain for something to say, to do, to divert her attention, Harry nearly yelped when he felt a wand being pressed into his hand. Gripping it tightly, he shifted it so it was straight down and not as visible.

 _"Expelliarmus!"_ He shouted the spell the moment her eyes left him and moved to Hermione.

Both wands flew from her hands and floated innocently above their heads. Annika watched in silent horror, her eyes truly mad now as Harry leveled his wand directly at her.

"It's over, Annika." He kept his voice low, soothing, but it didn't seem to matter. Now that all of her leverage was gone, her illusions shattered and reality staring her in the face, she merely stared at him with blank eyes.

"No," she cried, then repeated the word over and over as she began to tremble. "It can't be, it can't be." She wrapped her arms around herself as she shook, sinking to the floor and rocking herself back and forth. "No, no, no."

Harry kept his wand trained on Annika, but only loosely. She was a danger to no one now, except maybe herself. Harry crossed to Hermione and helped her to her feet. "All right, love?"

"I am now." She smiled slightly, casting a worried eye towards the now gibbering girl on the floor. Harry pulled her into a one-armed hug and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Where's Jamie?"

"Right here, Harry," Ginny said, walking into the room, a gurgling Jamie in her arms, Draco on her heels. Harry took the baby from her at once, wrapping his arms around his daughter and kissing the top of her head. Draco took his wand back from Harry and trained it on the girl on the floor.

"How's Faren?" Hermione asked Ginny, reverting to the nanny's alias for Harry's benefit.

Harry, who had completely forgotten about finding the nanny in the room before his ordeal with Annika began, whipped his head around to the hallway. It must have been her foot he'd seen right before Annika started talking. Her single foot. Immobile.

He raised concerned eyes to Ginny, his mouth gaping open when he saw her shake her head.

"Mariah tried. But whatever spell she," Ginny indicated Annika, "used, it was powerful. And it was too late for Mariah to do anything about it."

Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Faren's been watching over Jamie. Even after I...even after she left. And now she's...she's..."

Harry tightened his arms around Hermione, disbelief threading through him. "Draco," he said over the top of Hermione's head, "can you take Annika away? The Ministry, St. Mungo's, wherever, I don't care. Just out of this house."

"Of course," Draco replied. With a quick kiss to Ginny's cheek, he crossed to Annika, took the girl by the arm and they Disapparated.

Harry led Hermione and Ginny down the stairs to where Faren, or Samantha, lay peacefully on their living room floor. Mariah and Ron were at her head, Mariah crying quietly in Ron's arms.

"I've got to get her home," Ron said, the moment they entered the room.

"Go," Hermione said softly, "Annika is gone. Draco's taken her to the Ministry. We'll look after Faren."

"It's all over," Harry said softly.

^*^*^*^*^*

They laid their nanny to rest in the Hogsmeade cemetery, a simple marker proclaiming the dates of her birth and death and the legend "guardian". She had no family, near as Mariah and Kalena had been able to find, so they'd decided to keep her close to them. For Hermione, he knew guilt played a part since she'd distrusted their nanny. For Harry, he felt it was the last honor he could give her. A resting place close to those she'd guarded.

As Harry stood over her grave, he remembered standing over four others not so long ago.

Then, he'd been saying goodbye to those that should have watched over him but didn't. Now, he was standing over one who had given her life for him, for his daughter, for his family. Guardians came in all shapes and sizes. Some were equal to the task, some weren't.

"Thank you, Faren," he whispered, dropping a bouquet of forget-me-nots onto the raised mound of earth before walking away. He couldn't call her Samantha. It was foreign to him. He'd known her as Faren and that's how he'd remember her. Always.

*^*^*^*^

Over the next few days, the lingering details of all that had led up to that horrid day finally became clear. Mariah told Harry what they'd found in the journal. That Faren/Samantha had been sent to them by Allison, Mariah's mother. The older Diviner had been nearly overtaken by the desire to get close to Renae and her baby and wanted a spy close to Mariah in order to achieve that. She'd intended on using Faren/Samantha's skills as a Knower to her own ends. But Allison hadn't counted on Faren/Samantha growing attached to those she was sent to spy on. She'd tried to control the girl, but failed.

Once the dust had settled, Mariah had wasted no time going to her mother and flaying an inch of skin from her, figuratively and almost literally. Everyone, after hearing Mariah's account of the mother and child reunion, was fairly sure that they wouldn't be hearing from Allison any time in the near or distant future.

The hardest part to cope with, for Harry and Hermione, was finding Faren's letter that night as they put Jamie down. Hands shaking, grief still a raw wound yet to scab, they'd taken the letter downstairs and read.

 __

 _Harry and Hermione,_

 _I didn't know how to say everything I need to say in person, so I've written it here. So you'll understand._

 _There is danger here. Of the greatest sort. A black shroud covers your house and all that inhabit it. A black shadow moves closer to you every day. This mind is closed to me, whether by madness or malice, I'm not sure. But I can see nothing save death. And closer it moves._

 _I've tried to watch over you, watch over Jamie, as best I could. The journey Allison sent me on seemed a noble quest at first, but one I soon came to realize served no one but her. When I was able to piece together why she wanted me here so badly, I did my best to shield all of you from her intents. Please tell Mariah and Ron that I'm sorry for deceiving them, but that it was the only way I could ensure that Allison remained as far away from them, and their daughter, as possible._

 _I've been watching, and will continue to watch over, all that have grown dear to me. Until the shadow passes, I will guard you in whatever way I can._

 _Samantha (Faren)_

Harry and Hermione read and reread the letter, well into the darkness of the night.

*^*^*^*^

The final mystery was solved when Katia woke up. As with the first time, it took several days before she was awake and coherent enough to speak. Once she was, however, it all came tumbling out in one long speech.

"I'd gone to see Annika, she was going to help me with something for Charms, and she wasn't there. But her wardrobe was open and it looked like some clothes were spilling out onto the floor, so I' thought I'd help her out and at least fold them. When I opened the wardrobe door, though, it was covered with pictures of Professor Potter. There was a blanket, a big stuffed dog that I remembered seeing Jamie holding, Professor Potter's award for special services to the school. And an open journal," she paused only long enough to blush. "The entries were very disturbing. I put the journal down and ran out of there, straight towards your office, Professor. But she saw me running and stopped me. I reckon I wasn't too good at concealing what I'd found. Then, boom. Next thing I remember I'm lying here."

"Professor?" David, her fellow third year, asked from where he sat. Holding Katia's hand firmly in his. "Where is Annika now?"

Harry could hear the tension in the boy's voice. He offered David a slight smile and a reassuring touch to his shoulder. "She's in St. Mungo's, last I heard, David. She won't be leaving there any time soon. If at all."

"Good."

*^*^*^*

Ron and Mariah's wedding day dawned bright and clear. Despite the drama leading up to it, the simple ceremony went off without a hitch. Nearly. When Ron agreed to take Ron as his wedded wife, the laughter took a few moments to subside, as did the redness in the groom's ears.

After the ceremony, Ginny flitted from table to table, checking on details, until finally dropping into her seat at the head table and slipping the shoes from her aching feet.

"I don't care if the roof collapses," she sighed, rubbing the instep of her left foot, "I'm not putting those torture devices back on again. Mmmmm," she sighed as Draco took the right one and began massaging it. "Love, you've got an hour to stop that or I'll get angry."

"Never knew you had a foot fetish, Draco," Harry commented idly, sitting back in his chair with his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"There are many things you don't know about me, Harry," Draco said on a smirk.

"True, that," Harry agreed, matching the smirk. "Although now I can say that I know what your wand feels like."

"Please," Ron piped up from across the table. "I'm eating here."

"When aren't you, love?" Mariah grinned, taking up his free left hand and kissing the plain gold band there.

"My point," he grinned back, eyes bright with promises for later.

"I meant to tell you, Draco. About your wand...?" Harry grinned.

Draco's eyebrow rose. "Yes?"

"Bit smaller than I expected."

Laughter erupted around the table as Harry and Draco exchanged wand banter. Except for Ginny and Hermione. Their eyes met in mutual exasperation. Then Ginny's face spread into a wide grin and she leaned over to whisper something to Hermione. With Hermione's nod, Ginny slammed her hands onto the tabletop to get everyone's attention.

"Right, then. I've had about enough of this with you two," she said seriously, looking back and forth between Harry and Draco.

"It's just teasing, Red," Draco said, trying to look abashed.

"Perhaps," she replied, biting the insides of her cheeks. "But Hermione and I have decided it's time for you two to either put up or shut up, as the Muggles say."

"Put up...?" Harry began.

"... or shut up?" Draco finished.

"Yes," Hermione interjected, trying for her own serious glare. "In other words, either get about snogging each other or leave off the innuendo altogether."

Harry and Draco stared at one another. In the space of a moment, they came to a mutual understanding. Their wives may be having them on, but no way were they going to back down. Draco raised his eyebrow as if to ask "you game?" Harry's answering grin settled it.

Without any fanfare, they both rose from their chairs, met right behind Ron and Mariah, and kissed. It might not have been full on snogging, but they held the closed-mouthed kiss a moment or two longer than absolutely necessary.

"Great Merlin's ghost, my eyes!" Ron lamented, torn between laughter at their not backing down from a bluff and nausea. The laughter won as he noted the shocked looks on both Hermione and Ginny's faces.

When Harry and Draco broke apart, they merely nodded to one another and resumed their places next to their wives. Silence reigned as glances were exchanged among the six of them.

"Well," Ginny said, her voice shaky, shifting slightly in her seat, "I don't know about you, Hermione..." She didn't, couldn't, finish the sentence.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, taking Harry's hand and squeezing it tightly, her voice nearly as unsteady as Ginny's. "Me, too."

Ron and Mariah laughed as Draco and Ginny and Harry and Hermione Disapparated from the table without another word.

"Guess it's just you and me, Mrs. Weasley," Ron sighed, pulling Mariah to standing and into his arms.

 __

 _I wouldn't have it any other way, Mr. Weasley._


End file.
